Rewritten
by clay12345
Summary: Peyton and Brooke have been best friends for as long as they can remember. But what if being best friends isn't enough for one of them anymore? What if one of them wants more? Let's start from the beginning. Breyton.
1. Just Add Water

Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill or any of its characters...

Review/comments would be greatly appreciated.

* * *

"You know, if we keep this up, people will think we're dating."

"Shut up, Nathan."

Peyton relaxed in her chair as Nathan lied in her bed, letting a basketball roll from his fingers into the air. The two of them did this sort of thing all the time; sit in Peyton's room and just let the time pass by. When Brooke wasn't around, of course. Brooke and Peyton were inseparable, but, to both girls' dismay, Brooke's parents chose to occupy as much of the girl's time as possible… and not for good reasons. Peyton didn't look at Nathan.

"I wouldn't be caught dead dating you," she laughed.

"Oh, come on," he said. "We've known each other for years now. What's the harm?"

"Because you're a jackass in public, Nathan."

"True," he sighed.

Peyton looked over at Nathan, who was still playing with the basketball.

"Why _are _you a jackass, anyway?"

"I take after my dad, I guess."

"Oh, the infamous Dan Scott."

"Shit. Don't use big words like that."

Peyton looked back at the wall, laughing to herself as Nathan pouted on the bed. She was, of course, a little upset that Nathan hadn't answered her question. The issue had been bothering her for a while now.

"God, why can't you be this nice outside this room?"

Nathan laughed: "Because then I'd lose my boyish charm!"

"What boyish charm?"

Nathan chucked the basketball at Peyton (lightly, of course) who caught it, much to his surprise.

"What, you think you're the only one who can catch a ball? It's not much of a skill, Nathan Scott."

* * *

Peyton was in her room again – she found that she was always in her room. Nathan had left a couple hours ago… only to be replaced by Brooke. These days, she was never alone. Not that she minded. Most of the time, she enjoyed the company.

"I'll tell you a second time. I am _not_ dating Nathan Scott."

"Liar."

"You'll never believe me."

"_Come on_! He's the star of the basketball team, _as a sophomore_ I might add. And it's not like he spent a lot of time on the bench last year either. Not to mention he's hot. That's always a plus."

"No, Brooke."

Peyton was on the bed this time, beside Brooke. Brooke was reading some magazine or the other. She was always bringing along some magazine to read. Peyton had no idea where Brooke even got magazines to that multitude.

"You're _so _boring, P. Sawyer."

"What? I'm not drama filled enough for you?"

"No, it's out of character. I don't like it. Now, get ready. We have a party to get to."

"Fuck, no. I don't want to go."

"Too bad, P. Sawyer."

Brooke pushed Peyton off the bed (mind you, finally putting the magazine down), and glared at her from over the bed.

"Too bad, because you're going to that party. With me. And you're going to look nice. Got it?"

"Fine."

"Good. Now wear this," Brooke sad as threw an outfit over at Peyton. "You'll look great in this. And now you can seduce Nathan, too."

"I _do not_ want to seduce Nathan!"

"Whatever, Blondie."

Peyton sighed as she obediently put on Brooke's chosen outfit. She thanked God (or whatever deity that happened to be listening to her at the time) that Brooke had not chosen some slutty outfit for her to wear.

"Now, let's go," Brooke said, obviously excited to get going.

Peyton smiled, tugging at the outfit.

"We'll take my car," Peyton said. "You're going to be staying at my place anyway. From the amount of time you had to spend with your parents earlier, I'm guessing you don't want to go back tonight."

"You haven't pieced together that many words in a week."

"Shut up, Brooke."

The two of them laughed as they slid into Peyton's car. Peyton started up the car and pulled out of the driveway.

"Peyton?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Peyton nodded. She knew exactly why Brooke was thanking her. They'd been through this before. Besides, Peyton had met Brooke's parents. They weren't exactly the best couple of people. Especially the mom. They both knew it'd be fine if Brooke stayed the night at Peyton's; Brooke's parents hadn't cared before, so they wouldn't care now.

The two of them smiled. They were actually making good time, and just driving like this was nice. Brooke took a deep breath. If she wasn't Brooke Davis, she'd just decide not to go to this party, and just drive around with Peyton. The car came to a jolting halt.

"What the hell?" Brooke muttered… loudly.

"Don't blame me. This asshole stopped in the middle of the road," Peyton complained. She turned to the pedestrian standing before her. "Move, now."

The person didn't budge, but picked up his dribble while pulling out his earphones. The basketball was at his hip now. He didn't even say a word. He just stared.

"I mean it," Peyton yelled. "Move it!"

Peyton jolted the car forward, to add corroboration to her words. The person shrugged and dribbled away, at a painfully slow pace.

"Jackass," Peyton mumbled.

"He reminds me of Nathan…"

The car sped away to a house shivering with music, radiating the undeniable scent of alcohol. How the police didn't bust the kids every time was beyond Peyton. She heaved a sigh and stopped the car, and she and Brooke got out.

"This should be fun," Peyton breathed.

"Oh yeah. Time to go Scott hunting."

Brooke smiled, the carefree exhilaration moving through her veins.

* * *

"Brooke? Where's Brooke?"

"Tim, one more drink! One more drink! Yeah! That's right! Keep at it!"

Peyton rolled her eyes at the sight of Nathan passing a countless number of red, plastic cups to the not-so-smart teammate. He really _was _a jackass in public. Peyton didn't even try and say hi. Instead, Peyton looked for Brooke. It was getting late, she was tired, and she wasn't about to leave Brooke alone at this party. Peyton knew Brooke well enough to know that the girl was a) also very tired from keeping up such a bouncy pretext or b) completely wasted and about to do something very stupid. Thus, she deemed it best to search for her friend… despite the number of couples she walked in on.

"Brooke?"

Peyton heard the familiar, raspy giggle emanating from one of the rooms.

"Damn it, Brooke."

The blond – reluctantly – opened the door, and there Brooke was, completely hammered and passed out on top of a guy, who, she presumed, was one of the Raven's benchies.

"Okay, fun's over. Out, dude."

"No, no way! Who're you anyway," he slurred, "her girlfriend."

"_Out._ Before I kick your ass. And you _know_ I can kick your ass, freshie."

"Yes, ma'am."

The boy rushed out of the room, his shirt stuck on his head. Peyton watched as the idiot stumbled out, and for some reason, felt a tug at her chest. Brooke deserved better than this ass. She sighed as she tried to help Brooke up. There was no way she was going to go out the front door looking like this. Peyton laid Brooke down, closed the door, and walked towards Nathan.

"Nathan," she said. "Now."

"Look at this. Peyton Sawyer is asking for me. Maybe she needs something." Nathan winked at the teammates surrounding him.

"Now, Nathan."

The Ravens began to cheer as Nathan got up to follow Peyton (and as Tim downed yet another drink). When they were out of earshot, Peyton spoke.

"Are you done being a jackass?"

"Sorry."

"You're really an asshole, you know that?"

"C'mon, Peyton. Look, I'll explain it to you later, okay?"

"Fine. But I expect payback."

"Now what's wrong?"

"Brooke's passed out in one of your beds. No – don't look at me like that, I walked in before they could get very far. But she's piss drunk. I don't want her going out the front door, not with all those people around. Is there any other way out?"

Nathan followed Peyton into the room Brooke was in, contemplating the different options. The backdoor was out of the question. There were people around there, too."

"We can sneak into the garage, and then you two can go out that way."

"Thanks, Nathan. Seriously. I still don't know why you can't be this nice out there," Peyton said, motioning outside.

"I said, I have my reasons. In due time, Peyton Sawyer. In due time."

"This mysterious thing doesn't suit you, Nathan. You're much too thick."

"Hey."

"You deserve it," she said, holding a passed out Brooke by the waist.

"True…"

Peyton followed Nathan's directions until the two girls were out of the garage and in Peyton's car.

"Don't play your shitty music," Brooke complained, still unconscious.

Peyton laughed and drove the two of them back to her empty, empty house.

"Okay, there you go, into bed."

Brooke grunted as she curled up in the bed, still reeking of alcohol. Peyton sat on the edge of the bed, leaning beside Brooke.

"Brooke Davis… What am I going to do with you?"

It was cold, so Peyton shivered. Her mind, as always, traveled elsewhere. She hardly even noticed it happening. It just did. She hardly noticed Brooke's hand sneaking towards the hem of her shirt either, until she was pulled down that is.

And there it was.

Peyton was on top of Brooke, practically straddling her.

Their lips pressed together.

Peyton freaked.

***

* * *

"What the hell?" Nathan groaned.

He was still cleaning up after the party, and it was a hell of a job, providing that none of them had decided to stay. They were just there for the booze anyway, and for the mere fact to say they were at Nathan Scott's party. Nathan knew Peyton was right; he _was _being a jackass. He laughed to himself. Dan probably knew exactly what happened whenever he asked to borrow the beach house. Dan was probably proud, the twisted bastard. The doorbell rang again.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "I can't catch a break."

"Nathan, open up!"

"Hi, Peyton. Where's Brooke?"

"Nathan, we need to talk. I need to talk."

"Come on in. Spill. Help me clean up a little."

"Nathan Scott, doing menial housework. Not screwing another cheerleader?"

"Already done, Peyton Sawyer."

"Gross."

"You asked for it," Nathan smirked. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

"Nathan…" (Peyton didn't know when it started to become easy to speak to Nathan. He had become her second go-to after Brooke).

"You didn't answer my first question, by the way. Where's Brooke."

"I kissed her."

There was a silence. Well, it was a near silence anyway. Nathan dropped the beer bottle he was holding in his hand. And then he dropped the entire garbage of bag of bottles he had been holding in his other hand. Peyton could see Nathan gulp.

"Don't look at me like that, Nathan. God, you're such a guy. Stop, Nathan. Don't imagine it."

"Whatever you say," he squeaked.

"Look, Nathan. I can't let this get out of hand. I don't know what's going on here. She was piss drunk, Nathan! She had no idea what was going on. She _has_ no idea what's going on. I just need… I just need to figure out what I'm feeling, you know?"

"I understand."

God. Why couldn't he act like this more often?

"Nathan, remember when I said I wouldn't be caught dating you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, I might have to go back on that…"

"What? What about Brooke?"

Peyton flinched.

"I'm asking you to _pretend_ with me, Nathan. She can't know that I'm even _trying_ to figure anything out. And she won't press me for information if she thinks I'm dating you."

"I see…"

"Nathan… I don't want to lose her."


	2. The Places I Have Come to Fear the Most

Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill…

A/N.

Sorry this took some time. Just keep in mind that although I'm starting from the beginning, everything's not going to go exactly in sync with what happened on TV.

I know this is starting off slow, but it'll get better. Don't worry. The Breyton will come

*****

"Peyton? Listen to me."

Peyton could hear Nathan's voice buzzing in her ear.

"Hey, listen to me already! I'll… do this whole dating thing with you. If that's what you need right now, I'll do it. But… Hey! Peyton! You're not listening!"

"What were you going to say, Nathan?" Peyton's voice was small, and afraid. Nathan didn't like it.

"What I'm saying is that you need to go back, right now. Brooke is probably still passed out on your bed. And what if she wakes up? Go back, Peyton."

If she listened closely enough, she'd be able to hear the sound of the rain falling outside. But right now, she could hardly hear the words rolling off of Nathan's mouth. Suddenly, she felt blank.

"Jesus!" grumbled Nathan. "Fine. _I'll _take you back. I have no idea what's going on right now…"

Nathan's car didn't groan when he started it up, and, before they knew it, they were far down the road, holding the strange feeling that they were alone in Tree Hill. Nathan left the car on the curb and pulled Peyton out of the car.

"I don't know if I want to face her right now, Nate."

"You could've told me that earlier…"

"Nathan, I'm scared. And I don't know why, and that's scaring me even more. She's my best friend, for Christ's sake!"

"Okay, it's late. You're tired, I'm tired, and Brooke's already passed out. She has _no idea_ what's happened, right? So just go in there and pretend everything's normal until you figure everything out."

"I don't want to pretend."

"Just go in, Peyton."

Peyton walked into her house. Nothing stirred. There was only silence. _Did she… leave? Did she wake up?_ The stairs creaked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Brooke hadn't moved.

Not one bit.

And Nathan was right, she _was _tired. Exhausted, actually. She threw herself face down onto the bed, beside Brooke. Slowly, she let her eyes close.

_What the hell is that smell?_

Peyton lifted her head off of the pillow. She heard it again. The vomiting. And it smelled like shit.

"Brooke?"

The groans echoed from the bathroom. Peyton pushed herself onto her feet and reluctantly walked into the bathroom. This is why she never went to parties. The aftermath was the worst part.

"Okay, Brooke," she said, rubbing the other girl's back.

"Ugh, I think I'm done. You know, I think something stepped on my head."

"Probably Nathan's ego. Let's go downstairs. I'll make coffee."

Peyton hooked her arm around the other girl and carefully carried her to the downstairs kitchen. She hardly ever used the kitchen. But sometimes – like now – she needed something quickly, and the store bought stuff just wouldn't cut it. The coffee machine whirred on.

"Ugh. How much longer until the coffee?"

"A couple minutes now."

"I didn't… I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

"Well…"

"Shit. Tell me what I did, Blondie."

"Nothing, nothing," she laughed. "You _almost _slept with a freshmen…"

"Ugh."

"Don't worry, I walked in before you two could do anything."

Brooke hovered her hands above her heart in mock jest; "My hero."

Peyton shook her head and turned away as she felt the tug on her chest. She poured the coffee into a cup.

"So, P. Sawyer. Did _you_ do anything interesting?"

"My night was definitely not as interesting as your night."

"Really?" she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "No Nathan Scott?"

"Ha…"

Peyton gulped, thinking about what had transpired between her and the Scott boy the previous night.

"About that," Peyton said.

"What? Are you serious? You and Nathan Scott?"

Peyton gave Brooke a weak smile.

"Yes!" she yelled. "Ha. You owe me twenty bucks. You said Nathan Scott would _never_ ask you out. Well look at what happened. Pay up, Blondie."

"No… No way."

"A deal's a deal, P. Sawyer. Jesus… Peyton Sawyer and Nathan Scott… Before you know it, you'll be Peyton Scott. P. Scott… has a ring to it."

"Shut up."

"Aw. Don't be a spoilsport, P. Scott. That's no fun!"

"Ugh. Finish your coffee. I'll be upstairs."

"What?" cried Brooke, in mock horror. "Going up to listen to that emo music again? You know, that's just not going to cut it with Nathan, Blondie."

"Shut up, Brooke. You know, I could've left you with that freshmen…"

Peyton walked upstairs, leaving Brooke with a rather permanent expression of disgust painted across her face.

"Have you told her yet?"

"Told her what?"

"About us?"

"There is no us, Nathan. It's only pretend."

"So we're still doing this?"

"I think we have to."

"And did you talk to her?"

"Briefly."

"Okay, _that's_ descriptive. What did she say?"

"She was very excited. She started calling me P. Scott."

"P. Scott?! Has a ring to it," he laughed. He keeled over as the laughter burst from his lips.

"That's what Brooke said," she muttered.

"But seriously. We need to talk Peyton. About this. About Brooke."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Obviously there is. You know, since we're pretending to date and all."

"We're pretending to date because I don't know what's going on. I don't know what's going on in my head."

"And the…"

"Don't say it, Nate."

"…kiss?"

"Damn it, Scott. It was… a one-time thing. I need time to sort it out. Which is why we're putting on this act."

"So we get to stage a break-up?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"So why do we break up?"

"Knowing you, you'll probably cheat on me."

"That's a low blow, Peyton."

"Whatever."

Peyton looked to Nathan as she walked out the door, careful to avoid any sight of Dan Scott. She wouldn't be surprised if Dan was creeping in some corner of the large house. He probably wouldn't be all that happy with the situation. All he wanted for his son was basketball, and only basketball. No complications. Peyton was complicated.

"So I'm going to leave. Figure out some way to make this 'relationship' real. We've gotta make this public. You know why."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Have fun with Dan."

"Shit."

Peyton sat down at her desk, staring at the pile of homework that had spread out before her. _Junior year can be a bitch_.

"Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer! Get down here at this instant!"

_The homework can wait._

"Brooke?"

"That's right. Now, my _hangover_ let you get away before. But guess what? I'm all better now. So we're talking."

"Talking? About what?"

"Peyton Sawyer! You are not pulling this on me! Now, you told me that something happened between you and Mr. Scott?"

"Dan? Ew."

"No! Nathan! Don't try to change the subject!"

Brooke had already thrown herself onto Peyton's bed. This time there was no magazine. That was generally not a good sign. Not for Peyton, anyway.

"Story time, P. Scott."

"Don't call me that."

"Tell me what happened."

"_Fine_. While you were about to hook-up with that poor little freshie," Peyton smirked as she watched Brooke cringe, "he said he'd really like to take me out sometime."

"Aw, well isn't that nice. My little Peyton is growing up!"

"Chill out, Brooke."

"Where's he going to take you?"

"I don't know."

"When's he going to take you out?"

"I don't know."

"What are you going to wear?"

"I don't know!"

The laugh suddenly escaped her throat, and Peyton sat there, in her chair, laughing. She had no idea why. Just being in the same room as Brooke made her happy… and when she was happy, she laughed. She began to laugh harder as Brooke joined in.

* * *

_Fuck. I didn't get my homework done._

Procrastination's a bitch, isn't it? Peyton slipped out of her car and walked towards the school. She'd figure it out. She always did. When was the last time she did _all_ her homework anyway. It's been years. Probably freshmen year, back when it had been so new… it was all such a novelty. Even the homework.

"Good morning, Blondie."

"Morning, Brooke."

"Today's the big day, huh?"

"What?"

"He'll ask you out today. You know. This time, he'll do it right, too."

"Hrmph. Hopefully."

Peyton couldn't help but feel a pang in her chest as she listened to Brooke's words. She knew the whole Nathan thing wasn't real; it would never be. But, still, it _felt _real, and she knew that Nathan was definitely not the one she wanted to be with. Of course, that's about as far as she figured out the entire situation. Nathan, no. Brooke? Well, she didn't want to think about that. She still needed 'time' (for lack of better words).

"Nervous?" Brooke asked, obviously extremely pleased with the entire situation.

"Apprehensive."

"Aw. Don't be like that."

"Class. Now."

"About that. Did you do your homework?"

"Do I ever?"

"Good. I didn't do it either."

Before the two girls could even reach the classrooms, they found themselves stuck to a circle of cheerleaders. Peyton rolled her eyes as she listened to the entire squad bicker about what had happened at Nathan's party.

Oh. And there Nathan was. The 'public' Nathan, of course. The obnoxious, annoying, son of Dan Scott, jackass Nathan. Peyton hated this Nathan. But, she enjoyed having the nicer side of Nathan as a friend. So, she would just have to deal with the jackass side of Nathan. Especially since she was going to be 'dating' him.

"Peyton!" he yelled, an obnoxious grin plastered across his face. "Tonight. Six-o-clock. I'll pick you up."

_Jesus Christ_.

The cheerleaders surrounding Peyton all squealed. At once. Brooke tapped her on the shoulder.

"Twenty bucks, Blondie."

* * *

Peyton found herself sandwiched by Nathan and Brooke. It had become the natural order of things. How long had she been 'pretend' dating Nathan? It must've been one or two weeks by now. You could never really tell. High school could make weeks feel like years.

The classroom was silent, so silent that every sound made by the gears of the clock echoed through the room.

_What had that kid said? What was his name?_

"Describe Peyton, Lucas," the teacher had said.

_That's right. Lucas. Lucas Scott. Nathan's older brother…_

"Lonely."

Peyton watched in horror as Nathan sprung his brother. The two Scotts rolled across front of the classroom, exchanging blows. But she could tell, even from afar, that neither of the boys had put real heart into any of their punches.

But that didn't give Nathan an excuse.

Peyton kept wrote out a mental note: _Yell at Nathan Scott._

* * *

"What the hell, Nathan!"

"Okay, Peyton. Calm down. Breathe."

"Don't tell me to breathe, you jackass!"

"I'm sorry! I said that I'm sorry!"

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Oh, well, we're _dating_, right? I've got to make sure it doesn't seem make-believe, _right_?" Nathan said, his anger suddenly misplaced… towards Peyton.

"Jesus Christ! You are being such an asshole right now! I hate it when you're an asshole! Do you have any idea what you did?"

"Look, I did what I had to do!"

"Nathan, it's ridiculous! You bet _me_ on a _basketball game_ with Lucas! Say it, Nate. Out loud. You bet your pretend girlfriend on a basketball game with your half-brother. Repeat. Now!"

"I—" Nathan found himself stammering beneath Peyton's rage. He found himself whispering. "I bet my pretend girlfriend on a basketball game with my half-brother."

He paused, thinking over the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"Okay," he said. "Fine. I get it."

Peyton stared at the pathetic mess before her.

"Nathan Scott," she said. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"It was Dan, alright? He was getting on my back about getting into the fight with Lucas. He said I had to do something."

"So you bet me."

"Well, yeah."

"Fuck you, Nathan Scott."

"I thought you were gay."

Peyton threw a pillow at Nathan, hitting him square on the face.

"Hey! I never _ever _said that I'm gay."

"Whatever."

"I hate you, Nate," she sighed, in resignation.

"I hate you too."

* * *

The entire school had packed themselves into the gym. Sure, the Ravens v-squad _always_ attracted a huge crowd, but this time there was an added twist. Lucas Scott was on the court. The fact that Lucas and Nathan were half-brothers was enough drama for them, especially after the classroom fight. Of course, unbeknownst to them, there were _four_ Scotts in that very same gym. Keith eyed Dan nervously, his very soul aching for the pain that he imagined Nathan must have been feeling. He was glad Dan didn't marry Deb; Lucas turned out to be fine, and he certainly didn't need _Dan_ of all people to get in the way of that.

Peyton stood in her customary position beside Brooke, mindlessly following the motions. She hated cheerleading. She only did it because Brooke had miraculously talked her into it.

Of course, she also found herself strangely engrossed in the game. She watched Whitey's face crumple in anger as Lucas missed one jump shot after the other. _Nathan lost to this?_

Lucas must be choking, withal the pressure and all… The gym, no doubt, was much different than the river court.

Peyton threw a glance over at Brooke and began to feel the familiar strings tugging at her heart. She was starting to feel it, and not only that, she was starting to recognize the feelings too. She recognized the incessant tugging at her chest whenever she was around the other girl, but she also recognized that it hurt more whenever she wasn't around Brooke.

She recognized all this. All of it. But she couldn't – wouldn't – put a name on it.

Peyton sighed as Lucas was pulled out of the game in exchange for the rather pleased Nathan.


	3. Are You True?

Peyton closed her eyes. The arm around her waist felt warm. No, it felt more than warm – it felt right. She pushed her head deeper into the covers, inhaling, trying to take in every smell around her. Slowly, she ran her fingers through Brooke's hair. This was how they comforted each other. This was how they had been comforting each other for years. Larry was never around for long enough to be there for Peyton, and Brooke's parents (Victoria, namely) were hardly ever even _near_ the state. So, Brooke and Peyton were left to comfort each other. It was the natural way of things.

"Don't do that, Blondie."

"Don't do what?"

"Breathe like that. You're making my head move."

"Aw. Poor Brooke."

The ceiling was maroon. As Peyton breathed again, staring at the ceiling. She had wanted to paint it black. A deep, hard black. But, somehow, the bucket of paint she had gotten disappeared. Apparently, Brooke didn't like the idea of a black ceiling. She complained how she'd have to stare up at the ceiling, too. She wanted pink. In the end, they decided to meet halfway. So, they painted the ceiling maroon. Peyton chuckled at the memory, causing Brooke's head to shift again.

"Peyton! You're doing it again. You're making my head move," she whined.

"Remember when you wanted this ceiling pink?" whispered Peyton.

Brooke shifted so that she was lying on her back, like Peyton. She blinked as she snuggled closer toward her friend.

"Of course, I remember. You wanted it black. Ew."

"Thank god I didn't listen to you," muttered Peyton, who had turned her head to look at Brooke. "If I did, we'd be blinded by now."

Brooke quietly laughed, a smile spreading across her lips. Peyton felt happiness gurgling in her throat, and she could hardly restrain the smile erupting on her own face. This was what she loved to do: making Brooke smile. Nothing had ever made her happier.

"What is it, P. Sawyer?" yawned Brooke. The brunette moved in closer to Peyton, her eyes closed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's nothing."

"What, are you getting a little crush on me? Better not tell Nathan. He'd be disappointed," said Brooke. She quickly opened one eye. "No, wait. He wouldn't be disappointed. You'd probably be fulfilling his greatest fantasy."

Peyton didn't speak.

"Guess what you know to get him for his birthday, huh Peyton?"

"I suppose so," whispered Peyton, to herself. Brooke didn't hear a thing.

* * *

"Why do you have to be such a jack-ass to that kid?"

"What're you talking about?"

"You know. Lucas. Lucas Scott. Your half-brother."

"Oh. Him."

Nathan put the basketball in the air, marveling at the arc it followed into the basket. He savored the sound of the leather passing through the net. Peyton caught the ball and passed it back to Nathan, who flicked it back up towards the hoop.

"I'm a jackass to everyone, remember?"

Once again, the ball moved through the basket, not even touching the rim. This time, Peyton didn't pass it back.

"And why is that, again?" she asked, playfully.

The basketball hit Nathan hard in the chest. He quickly glanced at the road as he contemplated Peyton's question. The last thing he wanted was for Dan to come back home. Of course, Dan was on one of those rare business trips. Thank god he was on a business trip.

"You know why," he whispered.

He put up a lame attempt at a shot, not even looking at the basket. It still went in, of course. Nathan didn't give the hoop another thought and walked to sit beneath the basket where Peyton had stood. He remembered when Dan had put up this basket. He thought it'd be an excellent idea to bring basketball to the home too. Why not, right? Deb hadn't been happy at all.

Peyton sat beside Nathan, holding the basketball on her lap. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Why do you have to be a jerk all the time?"

"Like father, like son, right?"

Peyton frowned; "No, Nathan. I'm asking you this question because you're _not_ a jackass. You've got a good heart."

"He gets _respect_, Peyton. Respect. From all the other adults. You know, I've always wanted to be like him. I wanted to win things for the Ravens. I wanted the scholarship for college. I wanted his dreams, and I wanted to live them. He planted them in my head, Peyton, and now I don't think I want anything else. I don't know how to want anything else. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted the sort of respect _he_ always seemed to have."

"You _are_ respected. You _are _winning things for the Ravens. All those other things? You're going to get it."

"But why am I respected, Peyton? Why?"

"You're Nathan Scott," she said, in a matter-of-fact manner.

"That's right. I'm Nathan _Scott_."

Peyton frowned again; "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw how Dan got all the respect," he sighed. "I saw, and I understood. Monkey see, monkey do. I wanted the respect, so I started acting like a goddamned _jackass_. And now… It's become a part of my name."

"I'm sorry, Nathan."

"Well, aren't we a pathetic pair," he murmured. "How's it going with Brooke? Figure anything out yet?"

"No… I haven't. It'll take some time, Nathan. I just look at her… I know I'm feeling something, I just… I don't know how to place it, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to keep being a jackass to that Lucas kid?"

"Maybe," he smiled. "He's the lucky one, anyway."

* * *

The phone rang, so Lucas picked it up. Besides, Keith was busy with the car that had come in yesterday with some sort of unknown engine problem. Keith would fix it. It'd be no problem for him.

"What is it, Luke?"

"There's a car that needs towing."

"Well, why are you standing there? Go!"

Lucas laughed; "Sure, sure."

"Don't forget about our talk. Whitey talked to you too, right?"

"Yeah, he did."

"So, are you going to go back to the Ravens? You're good, you know?"

"Not as good as you think," Lucas said. "But… I'll give it another shot. I think I know what I was afraid of."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"One day."

"Go tow that car."

"Yes, sir."

The tow truck grumbled beneath Lucas, and he drove the hunk of metal to the address he had gotten over the phone.

"Peyton Sawyer," he said, as he jumped from the truck.

"Don't wear it out."

"Lucas Scott."

"I know. You're Nathan's older brother."

Lucas sidled close to Peyton, who was leaning on the car.

"Let's see what's going on here," said Lucas. He fiddled with the engine, attempting to diagnose the problem. "Well, we're going to have to take this back to the shop. I'll give you a lift back into town."

"Sure."

When the car had finally been hooked up to Lucas' truck, the two of them climbed in. Peyton stared out the window. The way he looked at her… She knew he wanted her. She wished she could want him, too. She wished everything weren't so complicated in her head.

She stiffened as she felt Lucas' hand touch hers. There was concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't try, Lucas."

"Don't try what?"

"I won't hook-up with you."

"I know."

Peyton was surprised at the tone in Lucas' voice. It was blunt, as if it were common knowledge. Universal knowledge. She hadn't met many guys who were like that, who didn't keep trying to _be_ with you even after a rejection. Except for Nathan. But Nathan was like a brother.

"You just seem like a nice person, alright?" he said. "I'd like to be friends."

"Friends," she said. She seemed to be getting a lot of those lately. "Why the fuck not."

To Peyton's surprise, they were already back at Keith's shop.

"Well, this is it," he said, watching Peyton help herself out of the truck. "Peyton?" he added.

"Yeah?"

"Take care of him for me. Take care of Nathan."

Peyton's eyes filled with the upmost confusion. What was Lucas saying? This was the boy who fought Nathan, in front of an entire classroom. This was the boy who went head to head with Nathan on the court. This was the boy who should have every reason to hate Nathan and Dan and Deb. But instead, he said this. Peyton looked into Lucas' eyes, confused for Nathan. She only saw a concerned older brother.

* * *

Lucas felt the bag go over his head, and felt himself being pushed into a car. Karen would be worried. He had no idea of even where he was headed. He had been walking home from the river court… How did he let this happen?

He could hear the laughing. He could smell the alcohol. His heart dropped as he put two and two together and figured out just who his assailants were.

"Lucas Scott! Going for the V-squad!" yelled one of them.

"Fat chance!" yelled another.

"There's _no way_ the jerk's getting any playing time!"

"He can't just walk in and take _our_ playing time!"

"Hey Lukey! You still going to go back to the team? After you _choked_ and let down Whitey?"

"I've never seen anybody mess up that bad!"

"Fuck off," muttered Lucas. "I'm going back. I'm going back."

He knew that Nathan was there. Nathan was probably the one driving the car to begin with. But he hadn't heard Nathan's voice once. Not once. He shifted. Despite his situation, what disgusted him most was this was Dan's car. This car was borne of Dan's money. It disgusted him to touch it.

Lucas was pulled out of the car and into the dirt. He could hear the jeering and the smashing of bottles.

"Listen to me, Lucas," he heard. It was Nathan, whispering into his ear. "I'm making these losers think this is all about basketball, that we're hazing you. They are, but I'm not. This _isn't_ about basketball. This is about Peyton. I _saw _her in the car with you."

"She needed her car towed," he whispered back, sensing the sensitivity of the situation.

"Don't bullshit me."

"I won't take her from you."

"That's not what I'm worried about. Don't push her to do anything, you hear? Don't pressure her. Don't hurt her. Because _then_ I'll come after you."

The other Ravens were too drunk to even understand what was going on. They danced around the car, the beer bottles hanging from their fingers. Someone had managed to get his hands on some tequila.

"Do you want me on the team, Nate?"

Nathan jumped in surprise of Lucas' question, and his face filled with the same confusion that had filled Peyton's face; "I don't give a fuck. Play, for all I care."

"What about Dan?"

Nathan's face was hit with another wave of surprise; "I'll deal with him."

"Be careful."

Nathan moved away, and he could hear the taunts from the other Ravens. He didn't take them seriously. They were drunk. As the Ravens drove away from him, Lucas contemplated the conversation he just shared with his younger brother. This was the longest conversation they'd ever had. Hell, it was the longest _interaction _they've ever had. Not including the fight, of course.

* * *

"He's cute," Brooke said.

Peyton frowned at Brooke's words. She didn't like what she was hearing. Not one bit. Why? She had just used the word 'cute.' No, not 'hot.' She called him 'cute.' Which was a bad sign. She never called any guy she wanted to hook up with 'cute.' She called them 'hot.'

"We could be sister-in-laws," she squeaked. "How great would _that_ be? You with Nathan, and me with Lucas."

No, Peyton did not like this at all. Brooke just didn't call Lucas 'cute,' she just called him a husband. Calling someone a potential husband does not make him a potential hook-up. It makes him a potential 'something-more.' Peyton thought of this and felt her chest tighten.

"I guess it'd be nice…"

"And I know Nathan's a jackass. But we'll fix him, right?"

"I told you already," Peyton smiled, doing her best to forget about Brooke's previous words. "He's only an ass in public."

"Okay… Then we'll make him not an ass in public. That better?"

"Yeah…"

Peyton wanted to wrap her arms around Brooke's waist. Her arms just didn't feel right just hanging by her side. They wanted – no, needed – to be around Brooke. More than that, her own waist felt empty without Brooke's presence. She liked how their bodies fit together. Peyton frowned at herself. _What am I thinking?_

"Well, I've got a little something to do," Brooke said, huskily. Peyton shivered. "So," the brunette continued, "I'll catch up with you later… but hopefully not."

Peyton tried not to notice the leopard-print bra showing through the cheerleading uniform. But, she nodded to Brooke's words anyway. She knew what Brooke was about to do, and watched her jog over to a red truck and hide in the backseat. Normally, she'd laugh at Brooke's antics. But not this time.

She watched as Lucas unknowingly slid into his truck and felt her heart break.

"Hey superstar," she saw her mouth.

* * * * * *

A/N: Sorry about the lack of Breyton. This is just a head's up that the story's not going to be entirely Breyton; it's technically about everyone, with an extremely tightened Breyton focus. Which means there'll be a lot more Breyton coming up soon. But I hope you guys are enjoying these side stories.

We've got a long way to go.

Reviews, comments, all that fun stuff are appreciated.

(I also apologize for typos. I type too fast and don't notice the mistakes I make. I'm also working on improving the quality of the writing. The first two chapters definitely are not up to par with my abilities).


	4. Are You True? Pt 2

The doorbell rang three times. It was a loud, annoying doorbell. And it rang a fourth time. Peyton put her head against the desk.

"Nate, are you going to get that?"

"I'd rather not."

The doorbell began ring again and again and again. It was having a fucking seizure.

"Nathan Scott. _Please_ go answer your door."

"Fine."

They weren't even dating for real, and Peyton had him whipped. Nathan groaned as he tumbled down the stairs of the too-big house. He opened up the door, remembering to put on his most awful asshole face.

"What?" he blurted, before he could even see who was at the door.

"Nathan?"

Nathan felt himself stiffen. Quickly, he straightened up his posture, cleared his throat, and replaced his asshole face with a typical Nathan Scott smile.

"Oh. Hi, Haley."

"I heard what you did to Lucas. You," she glared, "are such an _jackass_."

Music traveled softly from his room. Peyton had just put in some CD into his computer and was playing it… loudly. Nathan, for once, didn't care. He remembered grabbing his older brother off from the sidewalk and shoving him into his car. Haley was giving him a look. If the look had come from anyone else, Nathan would've felt accomplished. But from Haley… He didn't know why, but he was devastated.

"Look…" he managed to say.

"You know what, Nathan? I was going to give you a second chance. But you already blew it."

Nathan didn't even think. He didn't give himself time to think. All his instincts told him to act, that if he didn't, he would lose something he'd never forgive himself for losing.

"Wait no," he said. His face was devoid of any of the masks he so ardently wore. He gave Haley the real Nathan Scott. "I'm sorry. I really am. Please give me a chance, Hales."

Nathan smirked to himself. If Peyton could hear him, she'd faint. He just apologized _and _begged in the span of thirty seconds. It was unheard of. Haley, on the other hand, was definitely about to fall over. Did Nathan Scott really just apologize? And did he really just use the word _'Please_'? Holy crap.

"Ugh! Fine! I'm going to hate myself for doing this, but fine. I'll give you _yet another_ chance. I'll tutor you." Haley paused. "On one condition."

"Anything."

Haley did her best to hide her blush as she began talking; "You have to leave Lucas alone."

"Okay."

She jumped. Sure, she _told_ him to leave Lucas alone, but she hadn't expected such sincerity from the younger Scott. This was one weird day.

"Oh, and another thing. You," she said, "are not allowed to call me Hales."

And then she was gone. Nathan found himself with the biggest smile spreading across his face. And it wasn't one of those Nathan Scott smiles either. It was a real one.

"Wow, she's really something," he heard.

Peyton was standing behind Nathan, leaning against one of the walls.

"You have never once smiled like that. Are you cheating on me, Nathan Scott?"

"Never."

In spite of himself, Nathan laughed. Peyton smiled, happy to see her friend finally happy.

* * *

The drawings were, obviously, light, but they felt heavy in her hands. Brooke wondered if this would be a good idea. No, it _was_ a good idea. Peyton's drawings have always been amazing, have always carried meaning, and she knew that Peyton wanted to change the world. Brooke knew that deep down inside, Peyton wanted her drawings published. She took a deep breath and nodded to herself. Yes – this was definitely the right thing to do. The manila envelope slid easily into the mailbox. It was addressed to Thud Magazines. She felt her heart swell with pride.

When Brooke arrived home, the first thing she did was search for the house keys beneath the welcome mat. The key was there, exactly as she had left it the last time she used it.

A little note lay beneath the key. It was one of those yellow lined sheets of paper, the kind you tear out of legal pads. Slowly, key in hand, Brooke unfolded the note. The message was short, written in black felt tip marker. It was there, in the center of the page:

**Promise me you won't hurt her.**

Brooke Davis was undoubtedly confused.

* * *

"Brooke Penelope Davis."

"Yes?" she answered, sheepishly.

"Leopard-print bra. Lucas Scott. You. Explain."

"Ugh. I… you know. Peyton, he said no!"

"He said no to the bra?"

"Can you believe it? Ugh!"

"So nothing happened?"

"No. He did drive me home though. And, he gave me a little kiss. Very classy."

Peyton watched Brooke smile. She loved that smile. God, she loved it so much. It's strange how the one thing you love so much manages to utterly break you. She hated how it was someone else making Brooke smile. _She_ was supposed to be the one to make Brooke smile. Her Brooke.

"And, he's agreed to properly meet me tomorrow night."

"Fantastic," said Peyton. She tried her best to mask the sarcasm in her voice. Brooke, of course, didn't notice. She was too caught up in the thought of dating the new basketball star. "Don't rush telling me all the details."

She made a face, underlining that she definitely _did not_ want to hear about the post-date happenings. Something inside her wanted to burst. Brooke had always been her best friend. At first, no one understood. That is, until they became inseparable. Peyton remembered looking at Brooke and just _knowing _that she wanted to be the girl's friend. Like they were meant to be best friends, and that they were meant to know each other forever.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sensation of arms wrapping around her waist from behind. Peyton could feel the shallow breathing against her neck… She shivered.

"Tell me the truth, Peyton," whispered Brooke, concerned. "You don't… like…"

Peyton found herself dreading the end of Brooke's sentence.

"You don't like Lucas, do you? I mean, he's so much like you… I don't know. Do you like him?"

The hands around her waist felt so warm. It was like… their bodies fit together. Peyton felt the lump rising in her throat.

"Don't worry, Brooke. I don't like him," she whispered. She tried to hide the unsteadiness of her voice. "I don't like Lucas."

The arms unwrapped themselves, leaving Peyton's waist. Peyton leaned back on to her hands and stared up at the maroon sealing. She had desperately wished the Lucas would just be one of Brooke's 'conquests.' Just a name on an endless list of guys. She hated that list, but that list seemed better than _this_. The lesser of two evils, right?

"Good," Brooke said. "Because I think I could really fall in love with this one."

**************

A/N: I know this is a shorter chapter, but the next chapter will be coming soon:

The muses have inspired me.

Game: can you figure out the pattern of the chapter titles?


	5. Crash Into You

"That's great, Brooke. I'm really happy for you."

The silence dripped heavily between them. Silence had always been something comfortable, something they understood. They spoke with silence. But this silence, this silence was different. Tension filled the silence. Neither of the two felt like they could breathe. The tension was suffocating. Peyton had turned away, and Brooke could see the other girl's shoulders stiffening. She noticed how Peyton's muscles had suddenly tightened, knotted.

She didn't like having Peyton's back towards her. She liked seeing her face. Brooke scooted towards Peyton, lightly shuffling. Peyton was painfully aware of the closing space; her muscles began to tense more. Brooke reached out and smiled as she rubbed her thumbs over the knotted muscles. She smiled as Peyton began to relax to her touch.

But then, Brooke found herself frowning. She felt the muscles quickly tighten again, and suddenly, Peyton had jerked away from her touch.

"Look, Brooke. I actually… I actually have something I need to… get to… So I'm going to have to go…"

"Peyton…"

"Bye, Brooke," she whispered.

Brooke found herself alone in Peyton's room, sitting in the center of it all. It hardly registered in her mind that Peyton had left, that she had left so suddenly. She was numb, and then she was surprised – she was surprised that she felt numb. The drawings that hung over every corner of the wall seemed to glare at her.

The note burned in her pocket.

Brooke pulled it out, and she began to unfold the yellow sheet. She read the note again. She remembered… how confused she felt. Who had sent it? Who was the note talking about? Why had she been sent the note?

Honestly, the note had been bothering her. She had wanted to talk to Peyton about it… but the news of Lucas had gotten in the way. And then Peyton had left, before Brooke even had a chance to say anything else.

Brooke held the image of Peyton's face in her mind. She held the image of the tensing muscles. She held the memory of watching her walk away. Was the note talking about _Peyton_? She would never hurt Peyton. Never. Not intentionally, at least.

Brooke lay down and stared at the ceiling. Peyton was right; the pink probably would've blinded them by now. They probably would've painted over it with some other color a couple weeks after. Or, they would've just stopped going to the room at all. The maroon was perfect.

* * *

There was space in the Scott driveway, so Peyton took no time in pulling in and parking. She didn't pause once as she walked into the house (Dan and Deb's car had disappeared, but Nathan's was there. She _knew_ Nathan was in the house).

"Nathan?" she choked. Her voice was quiet, quieter than she had intended.

"Peyton? Peyton! Are you okay?"

Nathan wrapped his arm around Peyton shoulder and gently led her to his room. He wiped the tears from her face.

"Peyton," he said again, "what's wrong? What happened?"

"I figured it out, Nate. I figured it all out…"

"Talk to me, Peyt."

"I love her."

Only three words came from her mouth, but Nathan sensed every single square foot of her devastation. He could hear it, dripping from the words. And so, he enveloped her in her arms, holding her close as she sobbed into his chest.

"Nate, I love her…"

Peyton was hysterical.

"God, I love her so much! Like, I when I first saw her, I just… I knew I wanted to be her friend. I _knew_ that on some level, that it just _made sense_, you know? I just… I just never understood what that meant… I love her."

The sobs began to escalate, and she began to beat against Nathan. Nathan held himself steady. His heart broke for Peyton. It did. He sat down on his bed, taking Peyton with him, the tears soaking deep through his shirt.

When the sobs began to die down, Peyton pulled away. He watched as she put her head into her hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Nate. I'm sure." She laughed. It was a bitter laugh. A cynical laugh. "I've never been surer."

"Do you think that she… you know… feels the same?"

Peyton laughed again. The bitterness poured from the quiet laugh.

"Remember Lucas? Well guess who's dating him?"

"Oh."

"She said… She said she thought she could…" Peyton's voice cracked. "She said she thought she could really… fall in love with him."

"…Oh."

"Yeah, well."

"Peyton, I'm so sorry."

"Me too," she said. "But, look. I don't think… it's a good idea for us to do this pretend-dating thing anymore. I just… I finally got my stupid ass to figure things out… I just…"

"Peyton Sawyer. Are you breaking up with me?"

Peyton laughed, the bitterness softened. But, Nathan could tell the laugh was empty, and he frowned. That was his thing. Making people laugh when they were upset. Making people feel okay again. That was his thing. He couldn't even do that for Peyton, right now.

"Yeah, I am," she said. "I mean, seems like you're getting it on with another girl anyway…"

"Who? Haley?"

"That's her."

"I…"

"Do me one favor, Nate. Don't let her go. I can tell you're going to really fall for her. Don't pass this chance up. Love," she laughed, the bitterness sharp again, "doesn't come knocking often."

"Look, Peyton. You'll get through this, okay? Everything's going to be okay. You're strong, and you're going to get through."

"I don't know, Nate…"

"You're going to get through. _And_ you're going to come talk to me whenever you need anything, hear?"

Peyton didn't say anything. She only looked away.

"Peyton. You have to promise me."

There was the silence again. Peyton laughed to herself. She had never once hated silence more than she did now.

"I've got to go, Nate."

* * *

The gravestone seemed to stare right into her eyes. Peyton sighed as she carefully placed the flowers on the grass.

"Hi, Mom," she whispered. "I have something to tell you… You know, this might come as a surprise, and I know you wanted something different for me, and I _know_ that it'll be a hard life… You're probably confused about all these things I'm saying."

Peyton stared up at the blue sky, at the clouds moving quickly past.

"Mom, I'm gay."

She turned to look at the gravestone; "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry, but it's true. I just… I mean, I just figured it out. I look at Brooke, and… I know. I hope you understand, Mom. This wasn't a choice. It isn't a choice. I'm in love with her…"

It was such a beautiful day… They say that contrast only makes things more extreme. It was an amazing day. But the pain inside of her didn't melt away. It grew, pounding against her heart walls.

"I know," whispered Peyton, as if she were answering some sort of question from beyond. "I'll do my best."

Peyton pulled the sketchpad out of her bag and began to draw. The pain didn't go away, but for one moment, for one single moment, she didn't think. She buried her head deeper into her sketchpad. She didn't want to think. Not now, not ever.

Her cell phone buzzed, a text flashing on the screen.

**I'm worried. Party. Tonight. You should come. – Nate.**

* * *

She couldn't believe herself. What the hell was she doing her? Why the _hell_ did she listen to Nathan? She should've never read that text. She should've just let it waste away in her cell phone hard drive until it was far too late to make it to a Nathan Scott after-party. But, no. She picked up the phone and read the text. _Of course_, she didn't want to go. Her conscience got the better of her. Nathan would've been pissed off if she didn't show.

"Nate! There you are."

"Hey, Peyton."

She unconsciously cringed as she felt his lips roughly press against hers.

"Nathan," she whispered, harshly. "No offense, but that was _not_ fun."

"I know, I know," he whispered back. "You're gay."

Peyton reached out to smack him across the head, but Nathan caught her in yet another kiss. Peyton cringed. Again.

"What the hell, Nate?"

"She was watching."

"What?"

Peyton swung her head around and caught sight of Brooke. She watched the other girl turn away. _She's probably looking for Lucas_.

"Peyton?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I asked you to come but…"

"Let me guess," she answered bluntly. "Dan was being an ass again, you feel like shit, and, thus, would like my permission to get wasted."

"How'd you guess?" he muttered, sheepishly.

"Don't worry. Knock yourself out. Just watch yourself."

Nathan plastered a mischievous smile on his face and closed in on Peyton's ear; "Whoever gets you will be as lucky as hell."

Peyton laughed; "Go, Nate. Have fun. I'll come by here tomorrow morning. I'll even help clean up a bit."

"Ooh. Now, I'm excited."

"Go!"

Before Nathan could come back with some witty remark, three of the Ravens squad grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him into the crowd. As Nathan was pulled away, he flashed a wink at Peyton. Peyton laughed. She couldn't help but feel the emptiness in her own laugh. She missed being able to really laugh. She missed being able to talk to someone about her insecurities.

There was absolutely no way she could go talk to Brooke about this. She quickly decided to make a beeline towards the elaborate drink table Nathan had set up. She wondered why he even tried. He knew, as well as she did, that everyone would just treat it as alcohol, no matter what it happened to be. She found herself surrounded by a multitude of choices. Whisky, scotch, tequila. What will it be?

Peyton grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels by the neck. She walked away from the bar, not even thinking to take one of the plastic red cups that had become so ubiquitous.

"Well Mr. Daniels," she muttered. "Looks like you'll be my friend for the night."

Peyton opened up the bottle and took a deep, deep swig.

* * *

The bottle was feeling light, as she stumbled across the room. She brought to her lips again.

"Oh!" she cried. "All empty."

She dropped the bottle on the floor nonchalantly, and began to attempt walking over to the drinks table. Needless to say, it took her some time. The moment she reached the table, she immediately fell into Nathan, who happened to be unsteady on his feet as well.

"Nate! Are you having fun? Looks like you're having fun. It's good to have fun," she slurred.

"You smell funny," he answered, and he began to pour more alcohol down his throat. "I need more beer."

Nathan stumbled away from the drinks, apparently in search for beer (there was plenty on the table).

"Silly Nathan," slurred Peyton. She grabbed a half-filled bottle of whisky. "Time for more fun," she said.

Peyton leaned her head back, desperately trying to get the whisky into her mouth. She hardly noticed that she had begun to fall.

"Woah, woah. I've got you. Watch yourself."

A pair of arms had successfully wrapped around Peyton's waist, stopping her from falling back. They were definitely _not_ men's arms. Peyton struggled to orient herself, and turned around to see just who had saved her.

"Who're you?" she managed to say.

"I'm not from around here."

"Ah."

"C'mon. Let's get you away from these drinks."

The girl began to gently pull Peyton away, guiding her as she searched for an empty part of the beach house. Peyton stared at the other girl's hair. Brown. The girl was a brunette. _She kind of looks like Brooke_.

"Okay, here we are, no people, no drinks. How's your head."

"My head's fine," mumbled Peyton. "You're hot."

The girl laughed; "Thanks. You're not bad either."

"No boy?"

"No boy."

Peyton leaned in close to the other girl, pressing her up against the wall. Their faces were only centimeters apart, and slowly, Peyton began to move in. She noticed how the girl did nothing to pull away, how her face did not cringe or distort in disgust. It was nice to know that someone didn't _not_ want her. Peyton closed the gap.

The two of them kissed, their lips moving together in sync. Peyton moaned and grasped the other girl's waist.

* * * * * * * * *

A/N:

Well, I hope that was enjoyable.

WonderousPlaceForAnEcho – yeah, that's pretty much it. I was bored so I just added in a random question.


	6. All That You Can't Leave Behind

**A/N: Okay. Hey guys. So, I decided to throw in some songs to enhance the "ambiance" of these "delightful" little segments. Take a listen to them while you read. My treat.**

"I Hate Myself for Loving You" – Joan Jett and the Black Hearts

The ceiling was not maroon. Of course, she wasn't in her room. She looked up at the crisp, white ceiling… Peyton swallowed as she felt soft fingers move up and down or stomach.

"Good morning."

"Hi?"

She felt her lips get caught in a kiss. She didn't try to stop it. She hated to admit it, but she enjoyed it. More than she enjoyed that kiss with Nathan, anyway.

"Don't tell me your straight," said the other girl. Her fingers still hadn't moved from Peyton's stomach.

"Don't worry. I'm not. At least, I don't think I am."

"Shit. What did I get myself into? You can leave if you want. Your car is in the driveway."

"Thanks…"

"Oh, and listen. I really don't have the time and energy to help a straight girl sort out her feelings. But, if you do need a place to go… There's a gay bar here in Tree Hill. Here's the address."

"Thanks."

"None of this is going to be easy. It never is. Just do what's right for you."

Peyton nodded as she slipped on all her clothes. It reeked of whisky. She wanted to vomit.

"Hey," Peyton said. "Just one thing. How did you know?"

"I fell in love. With a girl."

"Did it work out?"

"Obviously not."

"Oh."

Peyton opened the door and began stepping out. She shuddered. The light was too much for her eyes.

"Don't let her go."

"I don't think I have a choice," whispered Peyton.

The door had already closed behind her, so she just shook her head and stumbled towards her car. The car reeked of whisky too. Everything reeked of whisky. She vomited onto the asphalt, clutching the door of her car.

Damn it.

* * *

"Nathan, open up. I'm here to help you clean up."

The door swung open. Too fast. Peyton stumbled back and felt her stomach flip.

"Oh. Peyton."

"You okay?"

"Look, Peyton, you have to leave."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"You _can't_ stay here. You _can't _come by. Do you understand?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Nate?"

"Don't call me that," he whispered."

"What, you're name?"

"Just go, Peyton."

"Listen. I didn't just come by to help you clean the _mess_ of your house. I came by to _talk _to you. You were messedup last night!"

"Oh and _you_ weren't? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I don't know, Nathan! That my whole life might be coming apart? That everything I ever thought might be a lie?"

"I'm asking you to leave, Peyton."

"No, you're telling me. And I am not going _anywhere _until you tell me what's going on!"

"That's right. I'm telling you to leave. So just listen to what I'm staying and get off the property."

"Nathan, no."

"I'll call the police. Do you want me to call the police?"

"What the hell, Nathan? What's going on with you? Is this about Dan?"

Peyton watched in confusion as Nathan's face momentarily construed, flashing hints of pain. This wasn't Nathan's face. This wasn't the face Nathan wore when he was her friend. This was his jackass face. This was the face he inherited from Dan.

"This," he said, "is about you hooking up with _that girl_. Leave, dyke."

Peyton backed away; "I don't believe this. I don't believe you."

"I said leave, you faggot."

She picked up the first thing her hand found and chucked it at the door. The pot shattered on the house wall.

"You are such a jackass!"

The sharp pain in Peyton's head intensified as she ran from the Scott house. She started up the car and drove away, feeling another wave of bile rising up throat. Nathan had closed the door. He stared at his hands, his eyes burning as tears streamed down his face. He never cried. But now, he was.

"Nice touch at the end there," said someone from behind.

Nathan turned around and faced Dan.

"You'll thank me later. We don't want any _faggots_ around this house, do we, son?"

* * *

There were fifteen messages on her answering machine. She listened to them one by one.

_Peyton? It's Brooke. But you know that. Okay. Whatever. Anyhow, I have to tell you something _too _cool not to tell you about. So call me back. We'll spend the afternoon together_.

She listened to the raspy voice and smiled. Brooke was _so_ spastic.

_Peyton! It's Brooke again. Um yeah. It's been an hour since I left my last message. You _need _to call me back._

_ Okay, it's been two hours now. Call me back, P. Sawyer. We'll have fun._

_Now you're worrying me, Peyton. Please call me back. I know what today is. Don't blow me off. I want to be there for you, okay?_

_You know what? Like it or not, I'm coming over there. Like, now. I'm not letting you do this on your own. Not everyone leaves, Peyton._

_I don't know where the hell you are, Peyton. I came by, and you weren't there, so I'm leaving _another _message. I'm worried Peyton. Call me back when you get back. I need to know you're okay_.

Peyton was startled to suddenly hear a male voice coming out of the machine…

_ Don't come by my house, Peyton._

It was Nathan. He had left the message early that morning, before Peyton had even decided to make a stop at his house. She felt anger bubble up inside of her, that and confusion. He had been so cool with her before. He had made jokes. He had that goofy grin on his face. What had changed? _Why_ was he being such a jackass?

"There you are."

Peyton cringed; "Ooh. Too loud."

"You got really wasted last night," pouted Brooke. "Where did you go?"

"You don't want to know…"

"Well, maybe I do. Where were you? I've been worried."

"I know. I've been listening to those messages you left on my machine."

"Oh, have you?"

"Yeah. So, what's the big news?" Peyton regretted saying the words, even before they started to come out of her mouth.

"Let's not talk about it. Today's _your _day."

"I don't think I want to think about what today is."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Brooke hauled the plastic bags onto Peyton's kitchen counter: "Oh! Well look what I have here. I wonder what's in them?"

Peyton stepped closer to Brooke, feeling a pang shoot through her heart; she could smell the subtle perfume.

Brooke leaned painfully close to Peyton's ear: "Ice cream."

Brooke shot away as she pulled out the giant tubs of ice cream. She made a beeline to one of the many drawers. She knew _exactly _where all spoons and bowls were. She had done this _way_ too many times.

"We're having a girl's night," Brooke squeaked, in delight, spooning the ice cream into bowls. "I love girl's night. I love it better when it's with my Peyton."

Peyton blushed as she heard her name slip from Brooke's lips. _She called me hers!_ Peyton tried not to put too much into Brooke's words. How many times had Brooke called her that? Too many to count.

"So, B. Davis," she said, picking up her bowl of ice cream. "What's the big news."

"Well, while you were getting trashed, which you are _totally_ going to tell me about later, I met up with Lucas."

"Oh," whispered Peyton, to quiet for Brooke to hear. She tried to comfort herself with a mouthful of ice cream.

"And, we decided to have our date a little earlier. We left the party and went over to a bar I know. We drank, we had fun, we hooked up… He got a tattoo, you know?"

"What? Lucas got a tattoo?"

"I know! Can you believe it? He's always looked like such a goody boy at school. Who knew he could be so B.A."

"Well, anything else happen?"

Another spoon of ice cream crammed itself into Peyton's mouth. Peyton really _did not _want to hear the answer to her question. She didn't even know why she asked the question. Hope, maybe, that there was nothing else. Hope, maybe, that Brooke would tell her that nothing happened because she loved her.

"Um, he took me to his place, and he had this whole thing set up. It was so romantic, Peyton. There were candles and everything. And you know the story from there…"

"I know the story, and I don't want to hear it," Peyton said bitterly.

"P., are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am," she lied. "It's just been a rough day, alright?"

"If this is about me going out with Lucas…"

"Don't worry, Brooke, it isn't," she said, lying again.

"Well, if it is, hoes over bros. I'd end things in a second. You know that, right?"

"He really likes you, Brooke. And you really like him. I can see that. You've never been this happy. I want you to be happy."

A smile spread across Brooke's face. Peyton smiled, but her heart broke. She loved to see Brooke smile. Even if it were at her expense.

"So. Tell me about Mr. Nathan. Are we going to be sister-in-laws?"

Peyton laughed bitterly. "No."

"What? Why? What happened?"

"We broke up."

"But why?"

"He," she spit, "was being a complete asshole."

"I thought you said he wasn't an asshole when he was with you."

"Well, he had a change of heart."

Brooke looked into Peyton's eyes. They were broken. She could _see_ how broken they were. She made a note to herself to go straight to Nathan's house and tell him _exactly _what was on her mind.

She wasn't going to let _anyone_ hurt her P. Sawyer.

"I'm tired," whispered Peyton.

"Come on," sighed Brooke. "To your room, we go."

"Okay."

The two girls carried each other up the stairs and into Peyton's room. Brooke marveled at the drawings. The girl had talent. She was glad – no, more than glad – that she had submitted the drawings to Thud. Now, only to hear from them… Peyton had settled herself in bed.

"Are you going to stay?" Peyton pleaded.

She hated herself for sounding (and feeling) so vulnerable. She needed Brooke. No, she needed more than that. She needed Brooke to need her. But Brooke needed Lucas. That much was clear to Peyton.

"Of course," whispered Brooke, cringing at the pain in Peyton's voice. She could hear it; they didn't need to talk about it. They knew each other too well.

Brooke lay on the bed and breathed as she wrapped her arms around Peyton. She could feel the other girl relaxing into her arms, pushing herself into her arms. Brooke didn't need words to at least begin to understand. No, she didn't grasp it fully, but she knew it was more than a bad Nathan Scott break-up. She knew it was something more. She just didn't know what.

* * *

Sometimes, when you wake up in the morning, you don't really know where your head's at. Peyton woke up, for the second morning in a row, completely disoriented. A lump formed in her heart as her head began to come around. And, for the second morning in a row, she could feel arms possessively wrapping around her. Of course, this time, she enjoyed it just a little bit more. Brooke. She breathed, desperately wishing that it wasn't a dream. She desperately wished Brooke could be hers.

Suddenly, she felt strange. Peyton Sawyer loved Brooke. She loved her more than anyone. It made sense. But, as she lay there in her arms, Peyton began to feel one other feeling: shame. How would Brooke feel if she knew? What would Brooke do? Would she still hold her like this? Would she ever sleep in the same bed as her? Yes, Peyton felt ashamed.

Peyton ripped herself from Brooke's arms and watched her arms attempt to reach out. She took a couple steps away from the bed, holding her head down.

"Peyton?" mumbled Brooke. "Is something wrong."

"Brooke, you need to leave," she whispered.

Brooke was suddenly very, very awake. She stared up at Peyton.

"What are you talking about?" she said. She knew all too well that Peyton was _not_ joking.

"I said you need to leave," she whispered again. Peyton cringed, remembering the words that had come from Nathan's mouth the other day.

"Peyton, talk to me. You can talk to me."

"I know," Peyton said, shuddering at the crack in her voice. "But you need to leave."

"I don't know what's going on here, Peyt."

"I do. Brooke, I don't want to repeat myself."

Brooke stood up, stepping closer to Peyton, who, in turn, stepped back.

"Fine, I'll leave," she muttered in frustration. She looked up at Peyton one more time. "Just… just call me when you want to talk."

Peyton gave a weak nod. She knew she wasn't going to call Brooke. She had already made the decision in her mind; she was going to try and cut off all connections with Brooke Davis.

Her heart broke as she watched the other girl walk away.

* * *

The house was big. Of course, the house wasn't as big as Brooke's house. Brooke's house was bigger. Apparently, the Davis family had more money to waste than did the Scott family. Of course, Dan probably wasted the majority of the money on sports equipment. Brooke wondered if Nathan's mom cared about the relegation of her family's inheritance.

Brooke walked straight towards the door of the house, not hesitating once.

"Open up, Nathan! I know you're in there! I'm not going away, you hear? Come on, Nathan!"

"What?" blurted Nathan. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, that's right, hot shot. It's Brooke Davis. And you have _serious_ explaining to do."

"What do you want?" he said, obviously frustrated.

"You know what I mean. You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about Peyton."

"She didn't tell you?"

"What she _did _tell me was that you two broke up. That's it. She wouldn't tell me anything more."

"Well there's nothing more to say," he muttered, glancing back to the inside of the house. His eyes met his father's. "I told her what she needed to know."

"What did you tell her, Nate? Do you even know what yesterday _was_?"

"Of course I know what yesterday was! And what I told her is none of your business!"

"You know, all this time Peyton kept going on about what a _great _guy you could be when you weren't around other people, but you know what, there's no one here."

"You don't know what's going on right now."

"I don't know? What do you mean I don't know? Peyton won't even _talk _to me! She kicked me out of her house this morning!"

"You slept over?"

"That's none of your 'business,' jackass."

"Answer me, _did you sleep over_?" his voice was at a whisper now.

"Look, Nathan. I don't know what you did to her… I know you left me that note, Nate. I know it was you, and I know you were talking about her. So don't you _dare _bullshit me like this. How _dare _you tell me not to hurt her? How _dare _you? You are _such_ a goddamned fucking hypocrite!"

"What _I _did to her?"

Nathan took a step outside, keeping the door open (he knew Dan would _not_ let him close the door. He knew Dan wouldn't let him leave).

"What _I _did to her? Well, good job. You figured out the note. But you know as well as I do that none of this is about what _I _did to Peyton. Yeah, I admit I was an asshole…" Nathan stole a glance indoors. He knew he was taking liberties. "But _I _am not the one who is doing this to her. I am not the one who has her getting completely _wasted_ on endless bottles of whisky. I am not the one who has her going out and hooking up with complete strangers who don't go to our school much less _any school_. Don't be so naïve, Brooke."

"I…"

Brooke backed away without another word and ran out towards her car.

* * *

It had been hours. More than hours. It felt like days. Peyton craved Brooke. Her heart ached for the other girl. Her heart ached for her to just _tell Brooke_. She knew she couldn't. She knew that, in the long run, it would be better for Brooke, that all ties be severed.

But she knew, that in one moment, her resolve could be broken. All it would take was one cell phone ring. One email. One doorbell.

A doorbell that went off with three sharp rings.


	7. Every Night is Another Story

"**May: the summer of boats" – Local H**

They say that Vegas is the only real place in this world, the only place that truly embraces reality, the one place that truly reflects the truths of life. In one moment, you could lose everything you hold close, and it would have all been based on one choice, and at the end of the day, you'll still never know if that choice had been worth it.

The doorbell went off three times, sharply resonating throughout the house. That doorbell… Peyton hated it. She had come to associate with bad news… She never forgot the two policemen who had come to her door that night, to ask if her father would come and identify a body, to see if they knew a certain Anna Sawyer, to tell them that they were sorry for their loss. Cautiously, she found herself approaching the door. No one knew this (not even Brooke), but she hated doorbells just as much she hated hospitals.

"Hi, Peyton."

* * *

His mind seemed to be everywhere. His whole life he had been in love with Peyton Sawyer. At least, he felt like he had been in love with Peyton. His mind floated to the memory of the two of them sitting together in the truck. He remembered feeling love, but it was a different kind of love, not the love he expected to feel. Of course, he recognized instantly what that love was; it was the same sort of love he felt whenever he looked at Nathan, whenever he looked at Keith, whenever he looked at his mom. The moment he _truly_ laid eyes on Peyton Sawyer, he knew she was family.

But Brooke… That was different. He knew he was in love with Brooke. His heart would jump, in ways he never thought it could. He figured out what had scared him so much when he blew that first game; he was terrified of becoming like Dan. But even with this revelation, Lucas was still hesitant… hesitant with his dribble, hesitant with his jump shot, hesitant with his life. Until, that is, he _truly_ laid eyes on Brooke Davis. At that very moment, he knew he would win every game for her, and that he would care for her, and that he would – somehow – make sure she'd be happy. And this was what would make him different from Dan.

The doorbell rang, and Lucas found himself bolting out of bed and running towards the door. He almost tripped getting there. Keith had answered the door and was standing beside it…

"Hey, Luke."

* * *

Haley James found herself sitting by the river court. She didn't know why she was there… it seemed weird to be there without all the boys. Hell, it was weird that the boys weren't there to begin with. Lucas, she could understand, now that he had Brooke. But Skillz and Mouth? And what about Jimmy? They lived on the court. They had nothing else to turn to. The court was their home, regardless of their athletic abilities. It was what made the river court so different from Tree Hill High.

She leaned back on the bleachers and breathed. And that's when she saw it, the car that had been parked not too far from the court. Slowly she began to approach it, unsure of how to deal with whoever it may be in there. The window rolled down.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

* * *

"…Mr. Scott."

Peyton stared at the man standing before her. She _definitely _hated doorbells. They _definitely _always brought bad news.

"Oh, please," he smirked. "Call me Dan."

"Okay, _Dan_. What do you want?"

"I'm here to tell you a couple of things… First, I want you to stay away from my son."

"Oh yeah? Well, Nathan already made that clear to me. So don't waste your words."

"Now, now, Peyton. Don't get all upset. I know Nathan told you. I'm just reminding you."

"You know what," she said, pushing the door closed. "I think it's time for you to leave."

"Peyton," said Dan. He had stepped in, so that the door wouldn't push shut. "You should have more respect for your elders. I don't like it when people don't let me finish speaking."

"Yeah? Well the world isn't fair."

"True. But, Peyton. I have one more thing to tell you, and I think you'll want to know."

"What? What is it? Just tell me and get out!"

"From here on out, Peyton Sawyer, I will make your life absolutely miserable. You think the world's unfair now? Well, I'm going to tear it apart, and you're not even going to _know_ what's hit you. Do you understand? See, this is Tree Hill, we're talking about, and I'm _sure as hell_, I don't want any fags around here. I know what you are, Sawyer, and I'm going to break you down. There isn't anything you can do to stop it."

"You're not the king of Tree Hill anymore…" whispered Peyton.

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure that I am."

With that Dan had left, leaving Peyton where she stood, unmoving, as still as a statue. Peyton felt fear wrench through her bones.

* * *

"Look, Lucas. I totally understand if you want to shut the door in my face right now, so go ahead if you want to. But I need to talk to you."

Keith, at this point, had left. Lucas opened his mouth to speak, "Why would I want to do that, Nathan?"

"I… I don't know. Because I'm a complete asshole?"

"Come in. My room's this way."

"Thanks."

Nathan looked around at the house. He wondered if his house would've looked similar had Dan made any other decision. He wondered if Lucas would be the guy he is now. He wondered if he, himself, would be the guy he is now.

"So, what's up, little brother?"

Nathan laughed as he threw himself on Lucas's bed, "Everything. You know, Lucas. I'm really sorry. For all the shit I put you through."

"What else are little brothers for?"

"Very funny. I'm being serious, though. I'm sorry. I really don't give a rat's ass if you play on the Ravens. It's probably good for the team anyway. You're good."

"Well I'm glad you don't care. But what about Dan?"

"Dan can go shit himself. Besides… he's occupying himself with other issues in my life right now…"

"I used to be jealous of you, Nathan, that you ended up with a dad, and I didn't. But… after that father-son game… after what he did to you… I think I realized I've probably been better off. I have Keith… You keep saying you're sorry. I just feel like I should say sorry, too, sorry that you ended up with Dan."

"Don't be sorry. Dan's the jackass, not you. And I'm not exactly an angel, either."

"But here's what else I'm trying to say. Keith's been like a father to me… And he's your uncle too. If you ever need help, we're here. We all understand what Dan's like. I mean, can you imagine? Being Dan's brother?"

Nathan laughed, "I don't know how he did it…"

"I wish I knew."

"You don't like Peyton, do you?"

"No," smiled Lucas. "She's your girl, man. Besides. I've got Brooke, now."

"She's not my girl anymore." Nathan laughed again as he realized just what he had said. "Actually, she's never been my girl. That whole thing was an act. We were just pretending…"

"Fucking with the world."

"Yeah… fucking with the world. Well, whatever we had, it's done with. I really fucked up, Lucas."

"How?"

"She's just really messed up right now, and I just made it worse. I just… I couldn't do anything about it, you know?"

"Dan?"

"Yeah, Dan. And now, I can't go fix things. Dan. He really wants to fuck her up… And you know Dan. I can't do a thing."

"I'm sorry, man. I really am."

"I just… I just needed to talk about it, you know? If Dan ever found out I was _talking _to someone about this…"

"I won't tell Brooke. But we need to figure this out. Before Peyton gets hurt."

"Hopefully, he won't go too far. I don't think he will."

"He's too focused on basketball."

The two boys laughed, marveling at how surreal the situation was. This was the first civil conversation the two boys had ever had. Funnily enough, Dan had brought them together. It was ironic, that the one man who had caused a rift between them was now – unbeknownst to him – bridging that gap.

"Look, man," Nathan said, getting up. "I have to go before Dan realizes that I left. It was good talking to you."

"Yeah, it was. I'll see you at the away game."

"Yeah, man."

"Oh, and Nate?"

"What?"

"Haley… she's really into you. Don't hurt her."

"She's a great girl, Luke," he said, smiling. "I wouldn't dream of hurting her."

* * *

"Are you sure your okay?"

Haley honestly couldn't believe she was talking to Brooke right now. She knew that she was dating Lucas, but still. She wondered if Brooke even knew who Haley was.

"I'll be fine."

"Well you don't look it. Let me in to the car. We'll talk."

"Sure, sure. You look like you'll make a good mom one day," Brooke muttered.

"That's something I hear way too much."

"Well, at least it's a compliment."

"This isn't about Lucas, is it?"

"No… no it isn't."

"Okay then. So what is this about?"

"You know," Brooke laughed. "I really have no idea."

"Actually… can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"You know Nathan, right?"

"Who doesn't?" she said bitterly.

"Is he… is he always that much of a jerk?"

"How is he with you?"

"He's definitely not a jerk with me. It surprised me. He was sweet, and nice, and polite… He was actually a gentleman."

"I used to be able to see that side of him. You know, before high school and before basketball. We were both from pretty wealthy families so… I guess we just knew what it was like to have to deal with parents who would act like children. But then we got to high school, and he became a spitting image of his dad. After that, I only ever saw that side of him, the jerk side of him." Brooke turned to look at Haley. She honestly couldn't believe she was saying all this. "But, you know. Peyton would see the other side. She would see the sweet side of him. She liked to call that part of him the 'real Nathan Scott.'"

"You keep talking in the past-tense. What happened?"

"Nathan bitched her out, apparently. Peyton won't even talk to me…"

"Was it that bad?"

"I… I don't know. I think it runs deeper than Nathan being a jackass. I think it runs deeper than even Nathan. I don't even know if that's why she won't talk to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You tutor him, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"I think… I think he can be a good guy. And I look at you… And I think you might be the one person who'll be able to bring that guy out of him."

"You, you really think so?"

"I do, tutor girl."

"Tutor girl?" laughed Haley. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's your nickname now. Tutor girl. It fits."

"Okay, then…"

"Are you going to that away game?"

"I might. I want to be there for Lucas."

"…And Nathan."

"Shut up," muttered Haley. "But I don't know if I can. Lucas has to take the bus, and my parents are taking our car… So I don't know if I can even catch a ride."

"We'll give you a lift, don't worry."

"Thanks."

"No problem, tutor girl."

* * *

The cheerleader outfit had been pushed out to the side of the closet. Peyton fingered the piece of paper her "one night stand" had given her. She needed to get away… She needed to get away from Dan, from school, from cheerleading, and most of all, she needed to get away from Brooke. She put the address in her pocket and climbed into the Ford Mercury Comet. No way was she going to that away game.

The club was definitely out of the way. Remembering Dan, Peyton couldn't blame them, for hiding out this way. Cautiously, ever so cautiously, she walked in. She sat in front of the bartender.

"Whisky. Straight up."

"Sure thing," replied the bartender.

Peyton put the glass to her lips and felt the liquid begin to burn through her throat. She honestly hated the taste of whisky; it tasted like medicine. But she loved the way it felt after she swallowed, that sensation lingering in the back of her throat. Without Brooke… without Brooke (and she hated to admit it) she felt painfully empty. The burning felt real. The burning was a feeling.

"What's your name," asked the bartender.

"Peyton Sawyer."

"Nice name," she said.

"Thanks."

"You look like you got a lot on your mind."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Hey, I'm just good at my job. I can tell when something's bothering someone. It ups my tips when I talk about it."

"Glad to know it."

"Let me guess. You've got a straight girl crush."

"My God," Peyton said, the sarcasm coming through. "You're psychic."

"Relax. Around here, it seems like that's the only problem everyone's got. You want to talk about it."

"I don't have enough money to give you a great big tip."

"Look, today's a slow day. I'll get bored if you don't talk to me. Tip or no tip. You look like you need to talk anyway. What's her name?"

"Brooke Davis. She's my… best friend."

"Normally I tell people to run as far as they can from this kind of thing… straight girl crushes. You look like you're really into her though."

"I think I'm in love with her."

Peyton had no idea why she was pouring her heart out to this complete stranger. No, she knew exactly way. This stranger was just that. A stranger. She… didn't have to worry about telling her these things. She knew, that at the end of the day, the bartender wouldn't give a shit about it all. It made it easier.

"But don't worry," Peyton added, after pouring more whisky down her throat. "I'm cutting off _all _connections with her. All of them. It's better for her. If I keep doing this… I know I'll hurt her. Somehow. I don't want to hurt her."

"From the looks of things, I don't think you have to worry about hurting her… I think you have to worry about her hurting you."

"I know me. If I kept this up, I'd end up hurting her somehow."

"What happens to her heart is really up to her, Peyton."

"Just give me another glass of whisky."

"Sure thing."

* * *

Peyton's head throbbed as she realized where she was: another stranger's bed. Once again, she could smell reek of whisky. Once again, she felt arms wrapping around her waist.

Her heart broke as she realized that they weren't Brooke's.

At the other side of town, Brooke looked up at a house. Slowly, without conviction, she moved towards the door and gave the doorbell three loud rings. It was a couple of minutes before the door quickly opened.

"Hi, Lucas."

They say that Las Vegas is the only real place in this world. In one moment, in one roll of the dice, in one turn of the roulette, in one flip of a card, you can lose everything. Sometimes, people forget that the world is just a bigger version of Vegas; it's just one big casino. It's just one big card game. And sometimes, people forget that here, life is the house. They make choices and bets and try to fight what's going on. And they never realize that life has some ulterior motive, that it can be really that simple. The stupid bets, the "smart" bets, the "strategies" people try and use… people are just complicating what's really meant to be simple. Of course, though, the house always wins.


	8. With Arms Outstretched

_A/N: seriously. Listen to the songs. _

"**Goodbye Sunshine" – Silence of a Silhouette**

For some reason, we all strive for the same things. We strive for happiness. Success. Fulfillment. Love. But we strive for the other things too, the pain, the devastation, the losses, the broken hearts.Because, really, at the end of the day, we all know that having the broken heart is better than having no heart at all. Emptiness is the worst thing to have.

The record played as Peyton stared at her reflection in the mirror. The sunken eyes. The pale face. The chapped lips. She didn't recognize the reflection. She didn't recognize the girl she saw. Peyton tried to cry. She tried to feel the tears run down her cheeks, but she felt nothing. Instead, her body convulsed, as the dry tears wrenched through deteriorating body.

Her eyes were rimmed with read as if she _had _cried. Her eyes – no, her entire face – felt parched and dried out. She wanted to scream at the girl she stared at. She wanted to yell at her. She wanted to tell her to stop whatever it was she was doing. But she couldn't.

Peyton felt the anger push through her, and felt it quickly travel from the bowels of her stomach to her throat, like vomit. The scream escaped her lips as her fists beat against the mirror, as the shards of the reflecting glass began to fly in all directions, as the blood began to drip from her skin. The skin felt tight around her knuckles as she grabbed the neck of a bottle of whisky. She threw it at the remainder of the mirror and watched as the glass shattered, the liquid mixing in with the blood.

The blood from her fists began to stain the floor. Peyton grabbed for another bottle and poured the contents down her throat. She didn't feel the burning anymore. She didn't feel anything.

Take two rights, drive for three blocks, and then take another left. There, you'll find a hospital. Nathan opened his eyes to the bright lights, heavily breathing as he tried to determine just where he was. The sounds ricocheted within the canals of his ears like bullets. He could hear the doctor talking to his father.

"I'm afraid we've found high levels of amphetamines in his blood stream, Mr. Scott… Is there something you'd like to tell us?"

"No…"

Nathan could hear the anger in his father's voice. No, it was unfair to call it anger. It was rage. Nathan knew Dan was enraged, and his mind quickly filtered through the people his father might come after. There was him, himself, Nathan. But then there was Deb, and Karen, and Lucas, and Peyton. And then there was Haley.

Nathan could almost hear the sound of his heart breaking. Slowly, the shame eating away at his soul, he began to struggle against the wires that had been taped to his skin.

Leave the hospital, and drive for ten blocks to Main Street. Take a right, and then drive until you don't see anything but a road and a field. Keep going until you see a car. Look into that car.

Brooke had driven from Lucas's house without stopping. She had left as soon as she could. She found herself in the outskirts of Tree Hill, staring into nothing. She opened up the note in her hand; the one Nathan had left her, the one that told her not to hurt Peyton. She couldn't imagine hurting Peyton, but then again, she hadn't seen her in two weeks. She hadn't been at school. She hadn't been at cheer practice. And everyday, she would drive over to Peyton's house. Everyday she would knock and beat against the door without fail for half an hour. She would sit at the doorstep for another half an hour or until it was too dark to wait any longer. The lights in Peyton's room would be off the whole time. The car in Peyton's driveway would be gone. She sat there and waited anyway. But Peyton would never come.

Lucas kept telling her not to worry, that Peyton might need a little bit of time before she could actually talk about what was going through her head. Brooke knew that it could be plenty plausible. Peyton had disappeared from school before, but never for this long. And never had Peyton locked Brooke out of the house. Peyton always let Brooke in. She always let Brooke in, and let her take care of her. It was mutual, the natural cycle of things. Brooke would take care of Peyton, and Peyton would take care of Brooke. Brooke tried to listen to Lucas, she did. When she looked into his eyes, she only saw concern – concern for both Brooke _and _Peyton. He tried to console Brooke, but Peyton was all the consolation Brooke ever needed.

The yellow note in her hand seemed to burn her skin. She clutched it to her heart and began to cry. She remembered everything that had happened before and felt the shame begin to wrench through her.

Backtrack until your back in the center of Tree Hill. Now drive. Drive away from the big houses, drive away from the school, and drive away from all those nice, pretty houses. You'll come across a whole line of houses with the windows all boarded up. Some of them are patched up with fraying pieces of duct tape. There's one that's painted white, except it isn't white anymore. It's gray – almost black – and there isn't one patch of clean wall. Walk into this house.

Rick didn't even jump as the phone began to ring, sharply and harshly. He had been expecting a call.

"Hello? Yes. Of course."

Rick paused as the man on the other side of the line began to talk. Rick laughed to himself. He knew exactly who this other man was. More than that, he remembered going to high school with him. He thought it funny that the man would come to him now. He always thought he was twisted in some way or the other. Of course, everyone's twisted in some way or the other.

"No, don't worry," Rick said. "Everything has been taken care of. I saw her take it all in with my own eyes. She took some home with her, free of charge. You owe me for all that product, by the way."

He had to admit, this whole situation was really quite fun. He had no opinions of course (he never did), but it had caught his attention. Nevertheless, he needed his money. He didn't do this just for fun.

"Just make sure you get me the money. I answer to other people, too. If you don't pay up, they'll come after you. They don't care who you are."

Neither of them said anything when they hung up. They were like that. Pleasantries were always unnecessary. Why waste your time saying goodbye when you can just hang up?

* * *

**Flashback: one day.**

"Brooke?" whispered Peyton.

She attempted to push herself out of bed. It took her five minutes; her arms hardly had any energy left. She hadn't eaten properly for weeks…

"Brooke?" she whispered again.

But no, there was no answer, no response. Peyton wanted to break down again. Quickly she reached for the first bottle of alcohol she could find and began to pour the contents into her mouth. Ironically, she suddenly became even more aware. Hangover cure number one: drink whatever you drank last night.

The room was a mess. There wasn't a single article of clothing left in the closet or in the dresser; they were al sprawled across the floor, half drenched in spilled alcohol. The stench of that alcohol permeated throughout the room, and, if Peyton hadn't already gotten used to the smell, she probably would've passed out. Needless to say, there was a lot of alcohol. The bottles littered the room. Two six-packs of beer were stacked on her desk. Empty bottles of beer and whisky lay dejectedly on the floor. There was a bottle of tequila in the corner of the room and a bottle of vodka on her dresser. She didn't even remember where the vodka had come from.

She didn't even try to clean up.

Her room seemed to stare at her, attacking her with memories. The maroon ceiling… the drawings that had been pinned up on the walls… Peyton wanted them to go away. She just wanted the pain to go away. The ceiling seemed to glare at her, the maroon slowly dripping into her heart, drowning it. She remembered the day she and Brooke had decided to paint the ceiling that color. She remembered the countless days she had sketched out these drawings with Brooke sitting beside her, doing her nails or reading a magazine. She remembered the way Brooke's body fit hers.

Peyton couldn't stand it anymore, and she downed what was left in the bottle before grabbing another one and stumbling down the stairs. The bottle hung loosely from her fingers. Somehow, her feet led her to the DIY paint supplies. She grabbed them and began to lug everything back to her room. There were five buckets of black paint. Quickly, she pried open the first one and dipped the large brush into the thick, inky paint.

Peyton attacked the walls with the brush. She splattered the ceiling with paint. She didn't stop.

* * *

"Don't screw up tonight, Nathan."

"I'll be fine Dad."

"You'll never break my record if you keep talking like that."

"I'll be fine."

"You're old man will best you any day, son. It just doesn't seem like you're good enough. You have to get better. You have first period off, right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then go to school early. I want you on the court."

"Dad…"

"Once a loser, always a loser. Don't lose, son."

"Fine. I'm going early."

"You need more enthusiasm, Nathan. You talk like this, and none of the scouts are going to want you. If you fail now, you seal your future. You won't accomplish anything."

"Bye, Dad."

"Don't screw up, son."

Nathan found himself driving past Tree Hill High. He didn't even think to stop. Dan's words lingered in his head, eating at him, eating at his brain. He could almost feel the words scratching within his skull. The sun beat down unrelentingly through the window and down onto his face. He could feel himself shaking as he remembered everything his father had ever done to him. He remembered words that had been said, not only about basketball, but about everything. In the beginning, Nathan found himself loving basketball to death. But, God… Nathan, for some reason, could never get the ball into the net.

Dan had told him to give up. Dan had told him that Nathan was no good at anything. Nathan knew exactly why… Dan didn't want his son tarnishing his reputation. Already, at that point, Lucas had been playing ball unusually well for his age. Nathan had seen the way his father had looked at other boy. He could see the regret, and the desire.

That was when Dan had told him to forget about it all, to forget about not only the sport Nathan loved so much, but also everything Nathan loved. According to Dan, Nathan was no good at anything. He wasn't any good at lacrosse, and, apparently, he wasn't any good at the photography either. It had stung. Dan had told him to run away… to go kill himself…

That was the moment Nathan had decided to prove Dan wrong, that he could be good at something. He would wake up at 4-o-clock, and would go to the rivercourt practicing is shot until school started. He didn't find the rivercourt right away – he had tried out about fifteen different courts, and was kicked off of each and every one of them, by bitter people who did not want to hear the bounce of a basketball that early in the morning.

And then, Nathan had gotten better. He had gotten exceptionally better. That's when Dan decided to start caring. That's when Dan decided to take credit for all of Nathan's accomplishments… making varsity, everything.

Nathan was tired of it all. He could see a teenager hanging out in the alley between two buildings. It was so cliché. Nathan left his car and approached the boy. He knew him. He was one of the freshmen who never got any playing time. Nathan felt bad for the boy. He had been there, with the pressure.

"Do you have the stuff?" Nathan's voice came out in a surprising whisper.

"Of course."

"And these will help me with my game?"

"They'll help you alright. Just take a couple per day. You'll be fine."

"This does not leave the two of us, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

The pills burned in Nathan's pocket as he walked away. His heart felt heavy as he re-entered his car and backtracked to school, to everyone, to Whitey… to Haley. All Nathan could think was that Haley would never approve – could never approve of what Nathan was about to do. But Dan drove him off the edge. As far as Nathan could see, there was no other choice.

* * *

The moment the teacher turned around to write on the blackboard, Brooke closed her eyes to doze off. She was, needless to say, exhausted. She had spent more hours than ever sitting in front of Peyton's house. Lucas had wanted to take her home, but Brooke didn't let him. Lucas knew to lay-off.

"I hope you're not too tired… especially with what I've got planned tonight…"

Brooke smiled; "That's why I'm getting all the rest I can, Broody."

Lucas leaned back in his chair. He was happy. Not to say he wasn't happy before, but everything seemed to be working out for him. He _finally_ figured out that having Keith was much better than having a father like Dan, he was a starter on the team, he was dating Brooke Davis, and he was – for the first time – on talking terms with Nathan. Lucas frowned as he thought about Nathan. Sure, his younger brother cut class every now and then, but as he stared at the empty desk, Lucas could not shake off a nagging feeling.

Brooke's face literally mirrored Lucas's. But for an entirely different reason. She was staring at the other empty desk in the room… Peyton's desk. Today was another day, another day Peyton didn't come to school. Brooke felt guilt eating away at her heart. She knew Peyton was hurting. She knew she was hurting bad. A part of Brooke was furious at Peyton, but the anger was just a form of her frustration. Brooke was, by all means, extremely frustrated. A lump began to rise in her throat as she considered just how lonely she had been in the past two weeks. Sure, Lucas was a great guy… But, she had never been more depressed in her life.

As the sun filtered into the classroom, brightening the already lit classroom, Brooke could not help but feel as if her whole world was dark.

* * *

"I never thought I'd have Dan Scott standing in _my _office." Rick gave the bigger man a toothy smile. "What can I do Tree Hill's ex-favorite basketball player today."

"_Favorite_ player. Get it right."

"Sure, sure. Whatever."

"Looks like you never really picked yourself up, Rick."

"I'm doing better than you."

"And what makes you think that?" The venom practically dripped from Dan's voice.

"You're in my office. Now what can I do for you, Mr. Scott?"

"I need you to hurt a girl."

Rick froze; "Now, now… There are other people who are better suited to that kind of thing… I can actually think of a few names…."

"I came to you for a reason, Rick. I want _you_ to hurt her in a way only _you_ can."

"I see… Well, getting people hooked seems to be my thing. Now, what's this lucky girl's name?"

"Peyton Sawyer."

* * *

Nathan could feel the effects of the amphetamines. He frowned. Somehow, he didn't care. He didn't care that Lucas was yelling in his ear. He didn't car that Dan was in the bleachers, glaring. He just… didn't care.

He looked around for Haley. He needed Haley. He felt the basketball hit him hard in the chest. As he dribbled up the court, he felt like molasses. He could smell the sweat of his defender. Nathan passed to Tim before blacking out.

* * *

"Do you think Nathan's going to be okay?" Brooke asked. She knew how much the older Scott cared about his brother. It was actually really sweet.

"I don't know. I just… I don't know what got into him. I wish he didn't have to live with Dan."

"I'm sorry _anyone _has to live with Dan."

"I used to want him, you know? Dan. I used to pray to God that one day the doorbell would ring, and I'd see Dan there smiling, all ready to hug me."

Brooke didn't say anything. She honestly didn't care for either Dan or Nathan right now. She could only think about Peyton.

"It all seems so stupid, now," he whispered.

Brooke shoved a bite of food into Lucas's mouth: "Just eat. Everything will work out"

Lucas's face instantly brightened up as he chewed the mouthful that had just been pushed into his mouth. He nodded as he tried to smile whilst keeping in all the food. Brooke emptily laughed as she tried pushing in another bite.

But, she couldn't keep herself from feeling guilt; guilt that Lucas had put so much into tonight and that she couldn't even feel a thing. She felt guilty that she was sitting there with Lucas.

When the meal was over and done with, Brooke slowly pulled Lucas upstairs and pushed him onto the bed. Slowly she began to kiss him…

She never got to sleep. She felt dirty. Disgusting. Her heart was heavy as she began to put her clothes back on. Quickly, Brooke scrawled a note for Lucas, who was peacefully sleeping. She left and crept into her car and drove away as far as the car would take her.

* * *

Dan had done his homework. Rick stood outside of the bar Peyton seemed to frequent. Dan had told him Peyton wouldn't be at school, and he probably wouldn't find her in her home. Not at this hour, anyway. Rick looked up at the name of a bar… a gay bar. This seemed to be getting more and more interesting with every second. But, then again. Dan Scott had always been an interesting character.

Rick watched as a blond girl stumbled out the doors, and he watched as she blankly stared at her car. The bartender had obviously taken her keys away. The whole situation was perfect.

"Hello," he said. He flashed Peyton a toothy smile. "You need some help getting home?"

"I'm not going to have sex with you," she slurred.

"Oh, I know that," Rick drawled. He was beginning to like the girl. "I just want to help a young girl out a little. Is there a crime in that?"

"Right. You're sitting out here, in the outskirts of Tree Hill, in front of a gay bar, and waiting to help one of its patrons. Get the fuck away, you pervert."

The alcohol on Peyton's breath shifted around his face. Peyton was surprisingly clearheaded. Rick thought to himself for a moment… he needed a new game plan.

"Wait. You _are _Peyton Sawyer, right?"

"How the fuck do you know my name?"

"I'll take that as a yes. I was called by a… Mr. Scott. He said I'd probably find you here. He wanted me to help you home."

Rick smiled. He knew Dan had a son… and he assumed this whole thing was protected. It was probably about basketball… with Dan, it was always about basketball. Rick knew that all too well.

"I have nothing to say to Nathan," Peyton said, eyes narrowed. "I don't want anything to do with him."

"At least let me take you home – for your sake… not Nathan's."

"Fine."

Peyton reluctantly slipped into Rick's truck. It smelled like piss. She slowly struggled to give him her address. The words were hard coming out of her mouth. She hardly knew what she was saying.

"Looks like you were drinking a lot. It takes a lot of pain to do that."

"Leave me alone and just drive."

"I can help you, you know. With the pain."

Peyton finally turned to look at Rick. There was something off about him. There was something in his eyes that told her to stop, to just get out of the car. But… the rest of him seemed charming enough. And the truth was, Peyton was too drunk to care.

"Fine. Tell me."

The car came to a stop, and Peyton jolted forward, the seatbelt pressing into her skin. She watched as Rick started to cut up a white powder on the mirror. She hardly comprehended what was going on.

"Watch me," Rick said. He took in the first line.

Rick beckoned for Peyton to lean in towards the mirror. Slowly, she copied Rick's movements. Peyton cringed as the powder shot up her nostril.

"Don't worry," he drawled. "The first line's always the worst. It gets better… much, much better."


	9. The Search for Something More

**Stay Where You Are – Ambulance Ltd.**

The corridors were absolutely empty. It's just as well, anyway. Everyone was at class. Except for Brooke, anyway. She had this block free. Most didn't… it wasn't exactly the most sought after free block, but that's precisely why Brooke chose it. It's precisely why both Brooke _and _Peyton had worked to get this block off. It was always nice to have some alone time during the day.

Brooke regretted all of that right now. Peyton had disappeared, and the silence had never been louder.

Funnily, for the first time in her life, she found herself relatively happy to have been called into Principal Turner's office. It gave her something to do in the empty hour of her free block. And she knew she hadn't done anything wrong in the past couple weeks. She hadn't much time to do anything besides sitting on Peyton's doorstep and then spending what little time she had left with Lucas. Poor Lucas. He was way to patient with her. He shouldn't be, but he was.

Lucas should've been perfect for her, but it was that nagging feeling that he wasn't that had begun to eat away at her. If Lucas wasn't perfect for her, who was?

"Don't worry, Brooke. You're not in trouble."

Brooke nodded, and Turner looked at Brooke with concern.

"Look," he continued. "I've noticed that Peyton's been missing. She hasn't been at school for four weeks."

"You wanted to know if I know anything?"

"Precisely. I've tried getting in contact with Peyton's father, but I haven't had any luck. So, I thought you'd know best."

"You'd think," she whispered to herself. Brooke turned to Turner. "I haven't seen her since she first disappeared. I know she's been in her house. Sometimes, her car's in the driveway, and sometimes it's not. Sometimes that light's are on, sometimes they're not. She's in there."

"Brooke, I'm worried about her. Is there anything…?"

"Strange? I don't know any more than you do, Principal Turner. I've been… trying to reach her. She's either not there, or she won't let me in. I don't know what else to do."

"I see. Brooke, you will have to talk to her. I hate to say this, but if Peyton doesn't come back to school soon…" Turner paused. He hated his job. "If she doesn't come back soon, we'll be forced to expel her. She'll have to enroll in another public school in the area and possibly redo her junior year. I'm sorry, Brooke, but four weeks of unexcused absence is a very serious offence. It's school policy."

"I understand," Brooke whispered. She hadn't meant to whisper, but she did. Her voice was weak.

As Brooke shuffled out of his office, Turner rested his head on his hand. Sometimes, he was proud, as an educator. But more often than not, he really did hate his job.

Brooke leaned against the wall and contemplated her schedule. After the free block she'd have two more classes… Precalc and English. She sighed as she realized that she had both with Peyton.

* * *

Brooke had spent an hour banging on Peyton's door. Lucas had arrived half an hour ago with a picnic basket filled with sandwiches and juice-boxes. Despite everything, Brooke couldn't help but laugh.

"Thought you might want some company," he had said. "And I'll bet that you didn't eat anything today, so I brought some food."

She had watched incredulously as Lucas spread out the blanket on the grass and handed her a sandwich.

"Do you think she's in there," he asked.

"I don't know, Lucas… I'm just… Well, Turner said he'd have to expel her if she didn't come back soon… She's disappeared before, but never like this. Never with me on the outside. I don't know what's going on."

Brooke bit into her sandwich: "I'm sorry, Luke. You shouldn't have to do this."

"No, it's fine."

Lucas smiled again. He just seemed genuinely happy to just be able to spend some time with her, even if they were only sitting outside of Peyton's house.

"Is Nathan okay?"

Lucas laughed: "He's fine. He disappeared from the hospital and gave everyone a heart attack. It turns out that he just stumbled all the way to Haley's house."

"He really likes her."

"It's a good thing too. Nathan's a real jackass out at school. It's like he turns into a mini-Dan. But… You know, I used to be a real ass. You probably don't remember, but I was just like Nathan. It was unbelievable. And then Haley shows up and 'fixes' me. I owe it all to her. She might just do the same for Nathan…"

"I don't know… he really is an asshole. Aren't you a little afraid for Haley?"

"Yeah, of course. Actually, if this had all happened last year, I would've been furious… but… Nathan came and spoke to me. After that…"

The two were silent after that. They quietly finished the last sandwich. Peyton's eyes were still groggy from too much sleep. She peeked outside only to see Brooke sitting with Lucas… on _her _lawn. Peyton knew that Brooke had been coming every so often… But she knew that she was doing this for the best. She had to cut herself off from Brooke. This was the only way. Peyton looked down at Brooke again, and began to feel a painful tug at her heart.

She grabbed another bottle of whisky to counter her hangover as she felt her way around the black walls. She found the bags of cocaine Rick had given her. She cut a line and felt the drugs seep into her system. She quietly cried as she thought about Brooke, who was sitting just outside.

Peyton couldn't stay indoors anymore, not with Brooke sitting right there. She quickly put on her jacket in a daze and walked out the back door. Someone had let it slip to her that there was a party at Duke. No one knew Peyton there. It seemed like a good excuse to go lose herself again.

"Lucas?" Brooke said. "Let's go now."

"Are you sure? I'm definitely up for waiting for a little while longer," Lucas said, with concern.

"No, I think that's enough for today. Let's go."

"Here." Lucas handed Brooke a piece of paper and pen. "Leave a note for her on the front door. Maybe she'll see it."

"Thanks, Luke," she smiled. She had to admit. It was a good idea. "Do you always save people like this?"

"Just write the note, Brooke."

"You know," Brooke said, as she taped the note to the door. "I hear there's a party tonight…"

"You want to go?"

Brooke looked up at Lucas, pleadingly.

"Okay, that's it, then. We're going," he said. He knew Brooke needed to get away, and he knew she'd go whether or not he went. It was probably better that he go with her.

"Where is this party anyway?" he asked, as he helped Brooke into the car.

"Duke."

* * *

Peyton made her way around the party. She couldn't help but feel a little out of place. She filled her cup with another round of beer. She could hardly hear herself think… which was a good thing. She didn't want to hear herself think.

"Hey! You're not from here, are you?"

Peyton shook her head.

"I live here," the man said. "Jesus, it's loud. You wanna come to my room? I've got some music that you might like."

He gestured to Peyton's concert-tee. Slowly she began to understand. She chugged down the cup and followed him to wherever it was he was walking.

Brooke looked around. Lucas had left five minutes ago to get drinks. Or at least, she thought he had gone to get drinks. He could've gone to the bathroom… She hadn't really heard him with all the noise. Brooke took a step as she headed towards the drink bar. She might as well just make sure. Besides. She wanted a drink.

Her heart jumped. Brooke began to move away from the drink bar and towards the flash of blond curls she had just seen. Was it… was that… Peyton? Brooke began to push people aside as she watched Peyton dazedly follow a man. It was Peyton.

"Peyton!" she yelled. Her voice got lost in the music.

Frantically she squeezed in and around the people, desperately searching for Peyton. She had lost sight of her in the crowd… Brooke pushed forward.

The doors were a deep brown, and the yellowed walls were chipped. Brooke looked around… Here, the people had begun to thin out. Slowly, Brooke made her way down the hallway. Something told her that Peyton was here. She knocked on a door.

"Peyton?"

She heard a giggle. Peyton _was _in there.

"Peyton!"

Brooke through herself into the room and saw a glazy-eyed Peyton lying on the bed. The man she had been following earlier had begun to unzip his pants.

"You get away from her!" she screamed.

Brooke pulled the man away and ran towards Peyton. She heard a yell behind her, and then a crash. Lucas had somehow managed to find them, and was punching the man to the floor.

"Don't touch them," he growled.

A sob escaped from Brooke's throat as she looked down at Peyton. The girl was pale and limp. Brooke helplessly watched as Peyton began to doze off.

"Peyton? Oh God, please. Please wake up. Peyton? Please!"

Lucas turned to the man, pinning him harder to the ground. The man groaned in pain.

"What did you give her?" he said. "What did you give her?"

"Roofies! That's it. That's all I gave her."

"Asshole."

"Lucas?" Brooke's voice came out like a whisper. "We have to get her out of here…"

Lucas nodded and helped Peyton up. Peyton clung to Brooke as if her life depended on it. Slowly, people moved aside to let them through, and it was only until the three of them reached Lucas's car did Brooke speak.

"Can you just drive us to Peyton's house?"

"Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine… I just…" Brooke's voice cracked as she began to cry into Peyton's hair. She couldn't bear to look at her.

Lucas just nodded again and silently drove to Peyton's house. He quickly helped them out of the car.

"I'll call or drop by tomorrow morning, okay?" he said.

"Thanks, Luke."

"Just be safe."

Brooke nodded. She carried Peyton towards the house. She hardly noticed Lucas driving away.

"B-Brooke?"

She looked down at Peyton… she sounded like a little girl again. Brooke felt tears run down her cheeks as she found Peyton's keys. There was no way she could've been prepared for what she was about to see.

"Brooke?" Peyton said again, her voice full of desperation. "Brooke!"

But, Brooke was too busy drinking in the sight before her, the calamity the house was in. Slowly she carried the girl up the stairs. The bedroom was worse. The walls had been painted completely black… paint bucket's had spilled over covering the floor with dried paint. The mirror had been shattered… there were still bloodstains covering some of the shards. Brooke examined Peyton's limp hand and cringed to see the scars. The drawings had been ripped down. Empty cans of beer lay crushed and dejected across the floor. The room reeked of whisky. As Brooke lay Peyton down on the bed, Peyton didn't let go. She clung to Brooke.

Brooke held Peyton in her arms as Peyton began to mutter, delirious.

"Brooke is that you? Is that really you? Oh, Brooke."

"I'm here, P. Sawyer. I'm here."

"I missed you, Brooke."

"I missed you too."

"Brooke… I love you."

Brooke looked down at Peyton in surprise. Peyton hadn't moved from her position. "I love you, too."

"No! You don't get it! I _love _you."

Peyton's voice had become raspy and low. "I love you, Brooke Davis."

Brooke wildly looked around as Peyton fell into a deep sleep in her arms. She looked up at the ceiling, which, like the walls, had been painted black. But Peyton had left patches of the maroon unpainted… patches that spelt out a phrase: "Love sucks."

Someone once said that falling in love is like getting a tattoo across your heart. It hurts, but it's a good pain, and in the end, you're left with a permanent piece of art so beautiful that it's excruciating to even not think about it. It serves as a reminder that once – somewhere down that winding path of your life – you loved.

JustLikeBrookeDavis

I hope you liked this chapter a little bit better. I'm sure you'll like the next ones too. Much more breyton.

WonderousPlaceForAnEcho

I'm glad you liked the last chapter… hope this one's good too! You'll have to thank the show producers for how well the title song fits… my storyline is, after all, following a relative skeleton of the original series. How do you like the songs I put up in the beginning though? This chapter's song is good.


	10. The Living Years

**Suspended in Gaffa – Ra Ra Riot**

Peyton struggled to open her eyes, and when she did, she was confronted with one of the biggest surprises of her life. The empty cans and bottles of alcohol were gone. All the stray clothes had been folded and put away. The blown light bulbs had been changed, and the mirror had been cleaned up and replaced… it was one of those insanely cheap ones from Target, but it was something. She sniffed (all the while ignoring her nagging headache) and suddenly recognized the stench of disinfectant and Febreeze. It had been a while since Peyton had smelled either of those things. Hell, it had been a while since Peyton had smelt _anything_ otherthan alcohol.

Peyton, more than anything, was utterly confused. The previous night was nothing more than a blank, and all Peyton had left to show for it was the blinding hangover and the incredibly clean room. She had no idea how she should be feeling. Fear? Happiness? Anger? Hope…?

The sound of feet against the creaky stairs violently yanked Peyton from her thoughts. Her heart seemed to simultaneously move in two directions when the familiar brunette finally came into view.

"Brooke…"

"Don't wear it out, P. Sawyer," smiled Brooke, cautiously. She handed Peyton the brown, paper bag. "I was going to make us some breakfast, but you didn't seem to have anything in your kitchen other than whisky and beer. I didn't know you liked whisky."

Peyton cringed at Brooke's words, hearing the intense disappointment. She could hardly even believe that Brooke was standing in her room.

"I… You… Breakfast…?"

"Coffee and chocolate muffins," Brooke said, flashing her trademark smile. She knew what Peyton needed right now. She always knew what Peyton needed.

"Breakfast…" confirmed Peyton. Slowly the rusty wheels in her mind began to turn. "You… last night."

"Yeah, I was, Blondie."

"I…"

"Peyton," pleaded Brooke.

Peyton looked up to see the hurt in Brooke's eyes. It was taking all her willpower not to hug her. It was taking all her strength not to kiss her.

"Peyton, just talk to me, please… What's going on?"

"I… I… The…" struggled Peyton. She stuttered on for a minute before finally giving up: "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. A lot."

Brooke raised her hand to touch Peyton's face. Peyton jerked back in surprise. Brooke looked down as she remembered what Peyton had said that night. She knew, more than anyone else, that the truth has a tendency to arise out of drunkenness.

"What happened last night?" Peyton finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice was a pained whisper.

"I found you at a party with some guy. He had you all drugged up, Peyton…"

Brooke began shake with sobs as the memories of a limp Peyton filled her mind. She felt a pair of frail arms wrap around her, a pair of arms she snuggled into. She cursed herself, knowing all to well what this must be doing to Peyton.

Peyton hadn't loosened her grip, but when Brooke looked up, her eyes met a frantic Peyton, a Peyton who was staring wildly at the bedside table. Brooke immediately understood what was happening.

"They're not there, Peyton. I hid them, and I'm sure as hell not telling you where they are."

Brooke had removed herself from Peyton's hold, much to both of their dismay. But, Brooke knew what she had to say.

"How could you do something like that, Peyton?" she said. She hadn't meant to sound so angry, but she did. She could feel all the emotions that had first hit her last night coming around. "How could you be so stupid? You know what those drugs can do! You… you were using _cocaine_, Peyt! Coke! You could've…. The coke could've… You could've…"

Brooke broke down again, too terrified to begin even thinking about a lifeless Peyton. She couldn't. She knew it; there was no way Brooke Davis could live without Peyton Sawyer. Peyton was motionless in shock, paralyzed by Brooke's words. She tried so desperately to move, to say something, at least, but she couldn't.

"Why, Peyton? Why?"

"I…" Peyton's weak body had begun to shiver as tears started to make their way down her face. "I… didn't know what else to do… I was so afraid, Brooke… everything was so… It hurt so much… Everything hurt…"

Peyton hardly knew what she was saying anymore, and this time, Brooke's arms had wrapped around her. The pain in her chest erupted as they held each other, but she didn't move. Suddenly, she wanted the pain. The pain filled the void. When Brooke finally retracted, Peyton shivered with the lack of warmth. She let Brooke's hand move across her cheek.

"You said something last night… when you were passed out."

Peyton grasped Brooke's hand in fear, in fear of what she had said last night, and in fear of what Brooke would do. Peyton clutched the hand as if Brooke would disappear if she let go. Brooke felt her heart break as she saw the broken girl in front of her. She couldn't help but feel responsible.

"You told me you loved me, Peyton."

There was a heavy silence between the two of them, but Peyton had already decided what she was going to do. She hadn't forgotten her previous choices, and she hadn't forgotten why she had made them.

"Brooke, you need to leave," she said, mirroring the words she had said before disappearing.

"No."

"Listen to me. You need to leave." Peyton's voice cracked as she struggled to say the words she hated so much with a passion.

"I'm not letting you do this again, Peyton. Not again. I don't want to lose you, and I don't want you to lose yourself."

"Please, Brooke. Just go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Brooke said, moving closer to Peyton.

Peyton's breath hitched as she felt Brooke's against her skin. Brooke was too close to comfort… All Peyton wanted to do was kiss her.

"Leave, Brooke."

"No."

And it was then that Brooke knew she had to do something, anything, to make Peyton understand that Brooke was not going anywhere.

Brooke pushed her lips against Peyton's in a searing kiss.

In all honesty, Brooke had no idea what she was doing… She could barely comprehend, nor understand, what she had just done. In fact, in that ever-minute moment of planning, Brooke had only hypothesized a brief kiss (something they had done every now and then throughout the course of their friendship). But in no way had Brooke expected this.

Brooke pushed Peyton down into the bed, slipping her fingers into the curls, groaning as Peyton's fingers gingerly grazed the skin of her back.

Slowly the two girls pulled away, both still drying to come to terms with what had just happened. There was an air of skepticism in Peyton's eyes, clouding the hope. Brooke could see all of it.

The doorbell rang, jerking from their thoughts, and before Peyton could do anything, Brooke had already gone halfway down the stairs to answer it.

"Shit," muttered Peyton, still numb. She climbed down the stairs after Brooke, who had opened the door.

"Hey, Peyton," said the girl on the other side of the door, not noticing that Brooke had answered the door. "I know you said you only do 'repeat performances' but I was hoping you might want to go for another round…"

"What?" cried Brooke.

The girl looked up at Brooke in surprise.

"Holy shit, you're not Peyton."

"No, I'm not."

"I'll leave…" the girl paused for a moment. "Well, I guess you're Peyton's latest fuck. I hope you have fun with that."

The door closed, Brooke staring at it, and Peyton clinging to the rails of the staircase.

"You've been sleeping around…"

"Brooke, I'm sorry," Peyton whispered, despite not even knowing why she was sorry.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's not like we're dating," said Brooke, forgetting, in the heat of the moment, both the weight of her words and Peyton's state.

She turned around to see a slumped and crying Peyton. Peyton's heart was breaking, and Brooke knew it. Slowly, Brooke approached the other girl.

"Peyton…"

"No, you're right. We're not dating. We're not even close to dating. I'm sorry I said anything. I'm sorry I did anything…"

Brooke held Peyton in her arms, and found herself stealing another kiss from Peyton. Guilt began to eat at her heart as she thought about what she was doing. Was she playing Peyton? Or was she playing Lucas? Which was it?

"Brooke, you have Lucas. I think… I think you need to go."

"…I think you're right," Brooke replied, not daring to look at Peyton. "Just… you have to promise me one thing."

"Anything."

Brooke cringed as she heard Peyton's voice, so full of love, so full of desire… so full of willingness to do anything for her…

"You have to start going to school. Hell, you have to start taking care of yourself… and that means eating right, and drinking less, and out with the cocaine."

"That's more than one thing," whispered Peyton.

Brooke smiled. There was the old Peyton.

"Well, I guess I'll be leaving now."

"No!" Peyton's voice was suddenly frantic as Brooke neared the door. She regretted every single one of her next words, but loved them more than anything at the same time. "Please stay, Brooke."

Brooke smiled and nodded as she carried Peyton back upstairs

"I don't suppose you want to watch a movie…?"

It would be just like old times.

* * *

Brooke stared at Peyton. Neither of them had mentioned the kisses they had earlier shared. Hell, they had been talking about everything _but _the kisses. Brooke wanted nothing more than to talk about them, to talk about Peyton was really feeling…

"Why do you love me?"

"What?"

"Don't think I'm going to forget about this, P. Sawyer. You told me you love me. Why?"

"Because… because…" Peyton had been caught off-guard. She had never been asked to me so direct before… but then again, this was Brooke. Everything she had previously decided had been thrown away. In fact, Peyton was filled with a new resolution, a resolution that Brooke's presence had inspired. As much as it hurt to be with Brooke, it hurt far too much to be away from her. Peyton couldn't help but feel selfish. "I love you for being so direct. I love the way you chew you're bottom lip when you're nervous, and the way your brows furrow when you're trying to concentrate. I love the sound of your voice, and your eyes, and your everything, because Brooke? You're beautiful. And I love your heart, B. Davis. I love your huge heart and the way you _care_. I love you, and you deserve so much more."

Honestly, Brooke hadn't been expecting much of an answer and was immediately taken aback.

"Don't say anything, Brooke. Just don't. I love you, but I just can't be away from you… I'll do anything to make us work. I just want you in my life."

Brooke hung onto Peyton, suddenly feeling a tug on her heart hearing the words. She didn't say anything. In fact, all she did was hold Peyton.

I'm being selfish, she thought. She could feel the immensity of Peyton's sacrifice pulsing through her veins. I shouldn't be toying with her like this, she thought again.

Brooke looked up at Peyton and wondered it there was more to what Peyton was going through, if it was more than Peyton falling in love with her. The girl who had visited told her that Brooke was just Peyton's latest fuck. Was that all she was? Something inside Peyton had darkened, and was Brooke just a way to get a way? A fuck? As she thought of this and more, Brooke suddenly felt her heart break into a million pieces.

Her life, she concluded, could not be more complicated.

Brooke Davis was in love.

* * * * * * * * * *

Okay! I hope this chapter was up to snuff


	11. Crash Course in Polite Conversations

**Here's to the Night – Eve 6**

Lucas glanced over at Nathan and Haley, worried to no end. In fact, he was most worried for Haley. And no, he wasn't worried about what Nathan might do… he was worried about Dan. It was one thing to be Lucas's friend, but it was an entirely other thing to be dating Nathan. Lucas did not want Haley to be sucked into the twisted Scott universe. He settled in closer to Brooke.

Peyton, on the other hand, had just walked out of Principal Turner's office. She slowly replayed the conversation in her head.

"Peyton, you missed four weeks of class. That's serious."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm glad you're back, but you're not going to get off easy."

"I wasn't expecting too."

"I'm going to do you a favor and not expel you… and honestly, a suspension wouldn't do you any good at this point anyway. You missed four weeks of school, so you're going to have four weeks of detention, starting Monday. And, you'll be assigned a tutor from the tutor center. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"And since today's Thursday, I want you to meet with your tutor today and tomorrow, for at least a little bit."

"Yes, sir."

Peyton began to walk out the door, her mind fumbling over the prospect of having detention for four weeks. It was bad enough she had to make up everything she had missed.

"And Peyton?"

"Yes?"

Turner took a deep breath as he continued. This job really was way too stressful: "If you ever need to talk about why…"

"Okay, Principal Turner," interrupted Peyton, for both their benefits. "Thanks."

Peyton quickly shook her self from her thoughts and made her way to the courtyard, where she knew Brooke would be. The moment she saw Lucas's arm around Brooke, she wanted to run away. Brooke's eyes looked pleadingly at her, and that was all it took. Peyton couldn't get away.

She watched as Lucas sidled closer to Brooke, and she watched as Brooke flinched, her eyes on Peyton's the entire time. She watched as confusion momentarily flashed across Lucas's face as he attempted to wave the whole thing away. She felt guilt stab through her as Lucas saw who Brooke was gazing at. A smile had broken out across his face as he waved her over.

"Hi Peyton," said Brooke.

It was strange how those two words could carry so much weight. The two of them hadn't even begun to discuss the kisses they had shared not so long ago.

"Brooke… I…"

Peyton again watched as Brooke quickly glance towards Lucas before looking down at her watch, obviously as a lame excuse to leave.

"Sorry… I've actually got to go," Brooke said, leaving before anyone could say anything.

Lucas's face again flashed with confusion. He turned to Peyton, obviously trying to chase his feelings away,

"So, Peyton," he said. "I'm glad you're back. You've really made Brooke happy, you know?"

Peyton nodded absentmindedly. She had only really spoken to Lucas that one time, when he had come to tow her car. But, beyond that, she had only come to know Lucas as Brooke's boyfriend. Not one-night stand. Not friend with benefits. Boyfriend. And that, perhaps, was the worst thing of all. Lucas was a good boyfriend to Brooke. She could see that, even now.

"And, hey! Peyton! Are you listening?"

"What?"

"I want to talk to you about Nathan…"

"Oh."

"I've been worried. About him, and Haley, and about everything. Could you… could you see if he's alright?"

"Lucas, I don't talk to him much anymore."

"Oh, okay," he said, squinting his eyes into a brood.

Peyton couldn't help but laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing, Lucas…"

* * *

"Hi Peyton!"

"Um, hi?"

"I'm Haley James."

"Yeah, I know. You're the girl dating Nate."

Haley looked around, obviously flustered: "Dating? What? I…"

"Don't worry, no one's judging you."

Haley then looked down, now defeated, rather than flustered: "Well, that's what people seem to be doing nowadays… judging me. Nathan's not that much of a jerk… he's actually really sweet with me."

"Sure, okay."

Haley smiled, waving away Peyton's reluctance. The two of them sat down as Haley pulled out a textbook and dropped it on the table.

"Enter Precalculus," she said.

And that's when Peyton's phone chose to ring. Haley stared at Peyton disapprovingly as said girl picked up the phone. Of course, Haley's face did take a sharp change in emotion as soon as she saw Peyton's face fall.

"If you need to take it, Peyton… you can."

Peyton took the call without even acknowledging Haley's go-ahead; "Hello? Yes, this is Peyton Sawyer… You want me to what? What do you mean I have to identify a body?"

Everyone turned to stare at a suddenly hysterical Peyton. Haley quickly led the shaking girl out of the room and into the hallway.

"Peyton, don't stay here. You can go and do what you need to do. Math can wait for another day, okay?"

Peyton nodded before bolting out the doors of the school.

* * *

She could only hear the roar of the music mingling with the roar of the wind. She was probably driving way over the speed limit. She didn't care. Without thinking, Peyton stopped the car and ran into her house.

"Peyton! Talk to me! Peyton!"

It was Brooke.

"Peyton? What's going on?"

"I… Brooke, my dad… they want me to go to Hilton Head to… identify…"

"Peyton…" whispered Brooke. She slowly wrapped herself around Peyton.

"They want me to identify his body… I… I can't do this, Brooke… I can't…"

"I know, baby. I know."

"Brooke?"

"Yeah?"

"Please come with me."

Brooke nodded as she let Peyton cry on her shoulder, feeling tears begin to fall down her own face. Peyton's parents had been like her parents… And now that Anna Sawyer had died… both Peyton had Brooke only had Larry left, and if he died… Not only would Peyton be left parent-less, but Brooke would be too.

* * *

Brooke had made it a point to drive, especially after the way Peyton had driven earlier. Of course, Peyton then insisted that if Brooke was going to drive, they'd take Peyton's car, knowing all too well that Brooke hated driving the old Ford. Peyton leaned on Brooke's shoulder slowly breathing, as her heart seemed to race out of her chest. Brooke had, for an hour, kept only one hand on the wheel, and the other running through Peyton's hair.

Haley and Lucas had thankfully talked to Principal Turner about Peyton missing yet another day of school, but this time for a very valid reason. After hearing Peyton's voice on the phone fully explaining the situation, however, Turner was very understanding. He had been there as the principal of the elementary school had to inform a young Peyton of her loss, and he could hardly begin to imagine what another lost parent would do to the young girl.

When the car finally pulled up to the Hilton Head Motel, neither of the girls moved. Brooke hugged Peyton closer.

"Do you just want to get this over with?" she whispered.

She knew how Peyton worked, and she knew Peyton wouldn't be able to take the stress of waiting. Peyton hated waiting for bad news.

"Why do people always leave?" cried Peyton as she nodded to Brooke's question. The two had begun to climb out of the car.

"You'll always have me, P. Sawyer. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Peyton played with Brooke's hand, nodding. They hailed a taxi and told them the address the Coast Guard had given Peyton. The cab driver looked up at the girls in a sad acknowledgement before driving them to their destination. Knowing full well of the implication of the girls' visit, the driver kicked them out before they could even think of paying. They nodded with thanks.

Brooke held Peyton's hand as the man slowly lifted the sheet from the lifeless body. Both held their breath, praying to God they wouldn't see Larry's face beneath the sheet.

When the sheet had finally been removed, the shock settled in, and neither spoke for a couple of minutes.

"Well?" the man asked, doing his best to lace his impatience with sympathy.

"It's not him," whispered Peyton, her voice hoarse. She turned to Brooke, "It's not him."

The man wished he could be happy as the two girls joyfully cried in each other's arms, but he knew that tomorrow, another family would come in, a family who would identify the body.

* * *

Brooke and Peyton walked down along the pier, weights suddenly lifted from their shoulders.

"Brooke?"

"Yeah?" she whispered, still tracing shapes on Peyton's hand. She berated herself… Peyton's face was filled with struggling restraint. I shouldn't be toying with Peyton, she thought.

But, she couldn't help herself.

"If you… if you ever leave…"

"Peyton, I' m not…"

"No, Brooke. Just hear me out. If you ever leave, I'll wait for you. Brooke, I'll wait forever."

"Well, you're not going to have to wait, because I'm not going to leave. You're _my _Peyton."

Slowly, Peyton cupped Brooke's face in her hands, slowly pressing her lips against Brooke's. She didn't know what exactly had drawn her to do such a thing… She knew exactly what the previous kisses had been: meaningless ways to comfort Peyton.

Brooke found herself kissing back, her hand suddenly resting on Peyton's hips. Peyton didn't – couldn't – stop. She instinctively ran her tongue across Brooke's bottom lip, begging to be let in. To her surprise, Brooke complied.

It was a long time before they finally pulled apart.

"Brooke, I… I'm sorry… I…"

The entire situation finally fell on Peyton. No: Brooke had Lucas. Lucas was good for Brooke. Peyton couldn't get in between the two of them. Peyton's forehead rested against Brooke's, her hands still cupping her face, as Brooke's ragged breath touched Peyton.

She ran. She didn't know what else to do, so she ran.

Brooke stared after Peyton, desperately running after the other girl. She was too late. She had lost Peyton…

"Nathan?" The phone trembled in Brooke's hand. "Nate… I'm in Hilton Head… Peyton disappeared… Nathan please come… You're the only other person who would know where she is… Please, Nate…"

* * *

"Brooke? When did she run off?"

"R-right before I called you."

"Why?"

"I-I… S-she…"

"Never mind. Don't tell me. I think I can guess," he muttered, looking down at Brooke. Brooke had somehow hurt Peyton again. Not that _he _was completely absolved of guilt, but still. "I think I know where she is."

"You do?"

"Just get in the car."

They had been driving for fifteen minutes, in silence. Brooke stared out the window, her mind running through everything that had just happened.

"How do you know where she is, Nate?"

"Remember that summer when you went away for cheer camp?"

"Yeah… Peyton said she couldn't come. She said she had to go somewhere…"

"She was here."

"What does that have anything to do with you?"

"One night, I get a call. I had to come down here."

"What happened?"

"It's not for me to tell you, Brooke. Let her tell you."

"I don't know if she will…"

"She loves you, Brooke."

"I…"

"There she is."

Brooke could make out the outlines of Peyton staring out into the water. She couldn't see too much, but she knew it was Peyton. Something inside of her told her it was Peyton. It was as if she had some sort of sixth sense.

"Brooke?"

"What?"

"Remember us? Remember how we were before high school?"

"You mean before basketball? Before you became an absolute jack-ass?"

"Oh, like you didn't change."

"Look… I don't care…"

"We'd go out into my dad's lawn," he interrupted, "and we'd go hide while our parents pretended like they were happy." Nathan turned to Brooke, lightly laughing. "You had this plan for me, that I'd marry Peyton, and you'd marry some hot actor, and our kids would play together, and the four of us would actually be happy. But, Brooke. That plan was flawed from the very start, because it's not me that's going to be with Peyton, it's you."

"Thanks, Nate…"

"Just remember the note."

Nathan drove off, leaving Brooke walking towards Peyton.

"You've really got to stop running away."

Peyton turned around, startled by the arms that had wrapped around her waist. Startled by the voice that had whispered into her ear.

"Brooke…"

"Shut up, Peyton," she whispered. "I love you."

The two kissed as snow began to lightly fall from the sky. Some would remember that night to be a freak occurrence, something that would never happen again. Others would remember the snow as something that had been waiting up there in the sky since the very beginning of time, searching for the right moment to come waltzing down to the earth.

**To be continued…**

Thanks for all the reviews guys!

This is going to be real fun


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